It Could Have Been Me
by hurricanelil11
Summary: Ellery Beecher has never watched a Hunger Games. Her dream is to be reaped, win, and live in the Capitol-anything to get out of District Seven. But Ellery's plans are foiled when her best friend volunteers for her. Plus, she now has to solve a mystery.
1. Morning

**I do not own The Hunger Games, it was written by Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own the plot of this story and all the characters (except President Snow, Caesar Flickerman, and Claudius Templesmith).**

**Image is from ~diamondie-stock on deviantArt.  
><strong>

**It Could Have Been Me**

* * *

><p>I wake up to the smell of maple syrup. Unfortunately, this syrup is probably covering hard, grayish acorn pancakes. But I know today is a special day. Mother never lets me eat maple syrup unless it's a very special occasion (such as a birthday, a wedding, etc…). Also she has probably used up the last drop for this breakfast since syrup is made in the early spring. It's mid-summer now and time for the 54th annual Hunger Games. That's why she's letting me eat syrup today—today is the reaping.<p>

"Ellery!" Mother calls from the kitchen (or rather, from the small corner in which there is a stove and sink). "Breakfast is ready." I get out of bed and reach for my only fancy dress, which I have worn for the past two reapings.

"No, don't put that on yet, Ellery, you still have your morning work to do," Mother says. Yes, our house is that small, my "bedroom" is basically in the kitchen. My bed is near to the stove so I'm warm in the winter. I groan. The dress is so beautiful, it's a shame I only get to wear it once a year. But if I was living in the Capitol—as a lot of Games victors choose to do—I would wear dresses like this every day. I slide the sky blue satin back into its drawer and choose more practical clothes—long black pants, a forest green shirt, and worn out boots. My district is Seven, and it is the northern most district, so even in the summer, the temperature barely clears 70º. Also, I could never wear a short satin dress to climb to the top of willow trees to collect the supple willow branches.

I sit down at the small table with Mother and Father and try to savor my syrup. That proves impossible to do because within five minutes, I have eaten everything on my plate. A glob of syrup lands on my shirtsleeve and I lick it off—I won't get anymore maple syrup until next spring. That is—unless I win the Hunger Games.

"'Bye!" I say to my parents. I grab my sack and knife and walk outside. District Seven is divided into sections. I live at the border between the two smallest. Everyone thinks of Seven as the lumber district, because the lumber section is the largest. But in reality, Seven is not only produces wood, but everything having to do with trees. I live between the maple section and the willow section.

Today I am going to the willow section to cut willow branches to make rocking chairs, bed frames, mats, baskets, and much more. It is humid today, and warm. Perfect weather for mosquitoes. And I really hate mosquitoes. If I get bitten—which I do all the time—the bites swell up to about an inch in diameter. The mosquitoes are even worse in the willow section, where there are a lot of small ponds and marshes. I bet there aren't any mosquitoes in the Capitol—I bet there aren't even any bugs.

I find a healthy looking willow and stretch my sack between two of the lowest branches. This way, I can drop the cut branches and they will fall directly into the sack without making me climb down to place them in. I scramble up the trunk and start cutting away.

* * *

><p><strong>I know the first chapter is a little boring, sorry! Please keep reading, it gets much better.<strong>


	2. Arboren

I don't know how much time went by, but soon I hear my best friend, Arboren Darrow, calling from below.

"Ellery. Ellery! Come down or you'll be late for the reaping!" Oh! I completely forgot about that. The District Seven reapings are held in the Square, which is an area in the approximate middle of the district. Since Seven is so big (trees need a lot of room) it takes about an hour to get there. Plus, I need to make myself as pretty as possible, this just might be the year I step up on that stage and am selected as tribute.

"Ellery!" Arboren calls again, "Are you even listening?"

"Yes, yes. Sorry, Arboren, be down in a second! By the way, Happy Hunger Games!" I call back. I stick my knife into my belt and climb down the tree. My sack is almost filled to the top with willow branches—a good half a day's work. I look at Arboren. Again, she looks like she has grown a couple inches since I last saw her. Then again, it might be true. When she was my age, she grew so fast that she often fainted at random times. Now, three years later, she is seventeen, six feet tall, and very skilled with a slingshot. Everyone is surprised that we are best friends since we are so different. While she has dark brown hair, is extremely smart, loyal, and truthful, I have blond hair, can't do math for my life, have had more boyfriends than I can remember, and often tell my parents I am going to work, when I actually swim in the lake. I guess our differences balance us out perfectly because Arboren has always been my best friend.

We walk home together, our sacks of willow boughs slung over our shoulders—quickly, so we aren't late for the reaping. I have never actually watched the Hunger Games. I might have, when I was very little, but I don't remember anything. But every couple of years, there is a victor from Seven. It's very fun when we have the party at the end of the victory tour. The Capitol hosts it, so it's obviously wild, unlike the low-key parties we sometimes have here.

I say goodbye to Arboren at my door, since she lives about half a mile away. We will see each other again today—at the reaping—except we won't be allowed to stand next to each other. She will be herded to the seventeen-year-old section, while I will wait with the fourteens.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are always appreciated!<strong>


	3. The Square

At home, I change into my sky blue satin dress. It is the most beautiful thing ever. It has a low neckline bordered by small yellow flowers (which match my hair). The fabric is gathered at the waist and then flares out again into a knee-length skirt. The sleeves go down to my elbows and, like the neckline, are bordered with yellow flowers. I will look very good on the stage.

The reapings are staggered so that everybody in each district can watch all of them. District Seven—being in the middle—has the reapings done at 1:00. There are no cars in most of the districts. I think a lot of people have them in One, and only the richest in Two, but in Seven, the only means of transportation is wagons pulled by horses or oxen. By the time I am dressed and ready, Father has dragged our rarely used wagon out of the shed and attached it to our old horse. He helps Mother into the front and then swings me up onto the wooden board I use as a seat in the back. I am still light enough to be picked up. At fourteen, I am only 5'3" and weigh less than 90lbs.

The ride to the Square is an hour of bumps, ruts, and potholes along the almost completely overgrown road. Since this road is only used once a year for most people, it isn't necessary to keep cleaning it off. But as we approach the Square, the grass is cleared away, and the road becomes level. More houses appear, but they aren't all made of wood like mine, some have foundations of stone and the streets around the square are cobbled.

I can hear the quiet chattering of the families that have already arrived from the center of the Square. Father helps me and Mother down from the wagon and ties the horse to a pole with the other families'. I am herded to the fourteen-year-olds' section and I see some of my friends from school. They greet me quietly and without emotion, but I'm very happy today, so I give a big smile in return, which they look confused about. I look over to the seventeen-year-olds' section and I see Arboren's head rising up half a foot above everyone else. She is staring straight ahead.

* * *

><p><strong>Keep reading... <strong>


	4. The Reapings

Milly Hammermill, District Seven's representative, bounces onto the stage set up in the middle of the Square. Her eyes are a bright, sparkling red—they're rubies. Her eyes have been encrusted with rubies. Her nails too, are long, thin sheets of ruby. I think it's her theme this year. Last year it was sapphires.

"Good afternoon, District Seven, and welcome to the 54th annual Hunger Games!" Milly trills. There is a smattering of applause and then silence. Two of Milly's assistants are pulling huge glass bowls onto the stage. They look heavy and it is taking them a long time, so I guess it is Milly's job to fill the time. "Very chilly today, isn't it?" she says, and gives a small shiver. No one answers—it's actually warm for District Seven standards, plus it's the middle of summer.

Finally, the glass bowls have been dragged to the stage, and Milly says in her Capitol accent, "As you probably all know, the Hunger Games is a reminder that ordinary citizens like yourselves can never overcome the rule of the Capitol. This year is the 54th anniversary of your failed revolution. Let's shake it up a tidbit this year and begin with the boys!" She plunges her hand into the glass bowl at her left and draws out a name. "Securis Aldershield."

A boy, who must be Securis, steps away from the eighteen-year-old section and makes his way to the stage. His eyes are downcast even though he will be going to the Capitol in a few hours. Securis has a typical lumber section build—tall, broad shouldered, very muscular, and no brains whatsoever.

"And you must be Securis, yes?" asks Milly.

"Of course."

"Well!" says Milly, and fluffs her ruby-colored curls, "On to the girls!"

She takes a slip of paper from the bowl on the right and reads the name. "Ellery Beecher." I can't believe it. I'm finally going to the Capitol! I'm going to get to eat maple syrup with every meal and ride around in cars! I smile my biggest smile and almost bounce like Milly Hammermill does up to the stage. But no one is clapping. Isn't it an honor to participate in the Games? I want to win and have a huge party thrown in my admiration.

"I volunteer!" a loud voice booms from the crowd. I could never mistake that voice—it's Arboren.

Arboren walks quickly up to the stage (a normal sized girl of her age would have to run to keep up that pace). In her strong arms, she picks me up off of the stage and sets me on the ground, unfazed by my kicking and punching.

"Well, this is getting interesting!" pipes up Milly.

"No!" I scream, "You've ruined everything! I need to go! Cars, syrup! I have to!"

"What's going on with her?" asks Milly.

"I haven't the slightest idea," answers Arboren, though she knows perfectly well what I mean because I've shared all my secrets with her. This is certainly a first: perfect Arboren, who always tells the truth, is lying and ruining my dreams. _I hate Arboren_, I think, and then I burst into tears.


	5. Hate

The next thing I remember is being carried by someone (possibly Father) back to the wagon. I lie in the back until all the tears have dried up and I can actually see.

"Arboren will be leaving for the Capitol in a few minutes," Father says from the front of the wagon where he had been waiting for me to calm down, "You should go say goodbye to her."

"I hate Arboren."

"Arboren is your best friend," insists Father.

"I hate her."

"I heard from her mother that she really wants to see you before she goes."

"Okay, I'll go for her mother, but I still hate her." Arboren's mother made my reaping day dress three years ago. She is probably the nicest woman in all of Panem. Her family is slightly better off than mine, so she would often help us out with money and things like that.

I climb out of the wagon and walk to the building in which Arboren is waiting for the train. On the way in, I pass her mother and her five younger siblings. The oldest being twelve, and the youngest not much older than one year. She gives me a sad smile as I walk past. Inside, Arboren is sitting on a wooden bench.

"Ellery," she starts, "before you say anything, I need to make something clear—"

"You stole my dream—"

"No, I just saved your life. The Hunger Games—"

"I need to go to the Capitol—"

"They mean certain death, especially for out district—"

"You don't understand—"

"You are the weakest, smallest girl of your age, therefore, you don't stand a chance—"

"But the party—"

"You don't need all that fake stuff. It's not natural. Did you even see how ugly Milly looks with those rubies—"

"You were always richer—"

"Do you know why your parents don't let you watch the Hunger Games?"

Milly's trilling Capitol accent calls from the hallway, "Arboren! Your train has arrived! Don't be late, we need to get to the Capitol on time!"

_The Capitol_, I think, and I say, "I hate you, Arboren," right to her face. Milly comes into the room and takes her arm. As they walk out of the room, all my dreams go with them.

I stand frozen in the room for what seems like ages. Then I turn around and walk out. In the Square, only the year-round residents still mill about. Everyone else has gone except my family. I get into the wagon and we ride home in silence.


	6. My Question

At home it is time for dinner. We eat a roast duck that Arboren had killed for us with her slingshot a couple days ago. She is extremely skilled with that thing—the duck received a stone straight to its eye and it was killed instantly without any pain. It tastes dry in my mouth. But there is something nagging me about that conversation with Arboren. 'Do you know why your parents don't let you watch the Hunger Games?' I didn't ever think there was a reason because in my family it was normal not to see them. That brings up another mystery: What goes on in the Hunger Games? Why did Arboren volunteer for me even though she knew I wanted to be a tribute? Why did she lie? All I know about the Games is that when the victor comes back from the Capitol they are rich, well fed, beautiful, and live in the Victor's Village, which is just beyond the Square. What could be so bad to make some people faint if they're reaped? (Last year the girl tribute had to be carried to the stage on a stretcher.) Now I really want to know exactly what goes on because maybe that will tell me the reason Arboren volunteered.

"Mother?" I ask. "May I watch the Hunger Games this year?"

"No!" She yells, as if I've surprised her. I stare at her wide-eyed across the table. A couple seconds pass, and then she says, in a much softer tone, "Sorry Ellery, but the answer will always be no."

"But, why?" I ask in the whiney tone Mother hates. But for the first time ever, she doesn't scold me. Instead, she just stands up and leaves the table to refill the water pitcher.

"I don't think we should talk about this right now," says Father.

"But Arboren is competing!"

"As you said earlier—you hate Arboren." Oops. It's really hard to remember that I hate her now. Then an idea pops into my head. Near a grove of willow trees lives a Peacekeeper. The Peacekeepers in District Seven are not nearly as harsh as they are in other districts—on occasions they even chat nicely with me. The only thing is that if they sense trouble brewing up, they won't stop until they put the person responsible for it behind bars—or have them hanged. Anyway, the Peacekeepers always have the largest houses with the biggest televisions. My idea is to go to work in the morning and climb up one of the willow trees surrounding the Peacekeeper's house. There I can watch the Hunger Games through his window, but still do my job. But I can't let Father or Mother know.

"Ok, I guess I don't have to see them."

"That's my good girl!" Father says and ruffles my hair.


	7. My Lie

The next morning, my parents are not awake when I get up. That's unusual, but, come to think of it, I think they stayed up really late last night. I heard them whispering in their room for hours before I fell asleep. Actually it's a good thing that I'm up before my parents, because I can sneak out of the house without them suspecting anything.

The woods today are just as warm and muggy as yesterday, and just five ten minutes after I start walking, I am drenched in sweat. It's not the heat, it's the humidity.

"Oh!" I yelp. The bottom halves of my boots are covered in mud! I look down and notice that I have stumbled into a small pond. It's no more than six inches deep, but it stretches through the willow woods farther than I can see. I have never seen it here before. Then I look around myself at the unfamiliar willow trees. They are standing around the pond, arms bending over it, and their leaf-fingers brushing the glassy surface of the water. They all look so innocent and suddenly I am angry at them. I am lost in the woods and have no way of getting to the Peacekeeper's house, or even back home. And now I'm going to miss the beginning of the Hunger Games.

Then I remember what Arboren told me to do if I was ever lost in the woods: Climb to the top of the tallest tree near you and look around. If you pick the right one, you will be able to see for miles. From the ground, under the canopy of leaves, I can't tell how tall each tree is, but a choose one with a large, sturdy trunk and start climbing. Then I remember something else: Willow trees are not tall. They also bend easily. Even though I have already climbed three fourths of the way up the whole tree, I am only a few feet off the ground and have no view whatsoever. I take out my knife and start stabbing the tree out of pure anger. I'm lost in the woods. _Stab! _I am nowhere near the Peacekeeper's house. _Stab, stab, stab! _I am nowhere near home. _Stab! _There are billions of mosquitoes biting me now. _Stab, stab! _I am not in the Capitol now. _Stab, stab, stab, stab, stab!_

"What _are _you doing?" I stop stabbing. There's someone else here, but I can't see anyone.

"You're not cutting willow branches, and you're definitely not weaving them," says the voice again. I look wildly around, but no one's there. I slowly climb down from the tree and walk around the tree as quietly as I can, searching for any sort of movement. I keep my hand on my knife just in case.

Then the voice comes from right behind me, "You can put that away, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Gaaahhh!" I yell and spin around. Standing behind me is a boy about my age. I think he goes to the same school as me. Probably, because there are only three schools in all of District Seven. I put my knife in my belt, but keep my hand on it.

"Why'd you have to scare me like that?" I ask and glare at him.

"Well you were scaring off all the animals for miles with your blundering about like that. People will think you're from the Capitol," he replies and glares back. I notice he is holding a bow, and he has a quiver full of arrows slund across is back.

"So what if they think that? I _could_ be in the Capitol right now if _Arboren_ hadn't vollunteered for me!"

I expect him to feel bad for me, but he just shakes his head and chuckles, "Oh, you're the one who was reaped last morning and had a fit in front of everyone." I redden. "You have a lot to learn, Capitol girl."

I sigh. "Can you please just tell me how to get to the Peacekeeper's house? Please?"

"Just turn around," he says and grins. I turn. A fancy log cabin is nestled between two giant willow trees about 100 meters away. It's the Peacekeeper's house. I'm facing the back door now (I can tell because of the basin of dirty dishwater lying outside), so I must have just strayed a little too far in one direction.

I start walking to it. "Well, _thank _you for your help," I call back to the boy.


	8. Ash

I hear footsteps behind me. It's him again. "I _said, _'thank you!'"

"But _why _do you want to go _there_? That's a peacekeeper's house!"

"Well thank you again for that exciting bit of knowledge. I know it's a peacekeeper's house!"

"Yeah, and why do you want to go there?" he asks again.

I pick up my pace a little, "None of your business."

"Come _on_! Just tell me."

I walk slightly faster. "Did you even hear me the first time? It's none of your business!"

The footsteps behind me stop abruptly. "Wait a sec. Why aren't you watching the Hunger Games right now?"

I turn to face the boy. "Why aren't you?"

"For you're information, I don't want to."

"But _why_?" I whine. I don't get it why wouldn't anyone want to watch them? They are held every year, so it must be for a reason. I've even heard that in some districts, it's mandatory to watch the Games.

"I just don't want to."

"Please, please,_ please _just tell me why?"

"You know, you're really annoying."

"You know, you're—wait a moment—who _are _you even?" I notice that I hadn't asked the boy what his name is.

"I'm Ash, and you are…?"

"Ellery Beecher."

"Of course!" Ash says and slaps his forehead with his palm. "I should have remembered you from the reaping!"

"Just shut up about that, you don't have to bring it up every minute!" I say. "I would like to be left alone now."

He looks genuinely dissapointed, "Well if you don't want me along…."

"Nope!" I say, turn around and start marching over to the Peacekeeper's house. It is silent for a moment except for the crunching of my boots on the forest floor and the sound of birds chirping.

Then a voice shouts out from behind me, "You know, maybe you really do belong in the Capitol. You'd make a lot of friends _there_!"


	9. Chariot Parade

When I reach the Peacekeeper's house I make extra care not to snap any twigs or make any other noises. Maybe Ash was right, I'm not very well suited for the woods. For the Capitol, maybe….

I climb the closest willow tree to the window that looks into the Peacekeeper's living room. They have a flat-screen, high definition TV. The volume is turned up so high that I can hear as well as see everything clearly from outside. They have just finished playing Panem's anthem, and an announcer comes on to the screen. Since District Seven is one time zone east of the Capitol, we can't watch the Hunger Games live, because so much important stuff happens in the morning.

I hear the announcer speaking. "Due to a stray thunderstorm that escaped the Capitol's "Magnetic Thunder-Away" boundaries, the chariot parade will be postponed one hour. It will take place at 8:00 am instead of at 7:00 am as scheduled." I see a clock on the Peacekeeper's mantle that says the time is 7:15. I would have been late if not for that thunderstorm. The announcer continues, "That means live streaming for districts One, Two, Three, and Four as usual, in addition to Five, Six, Seven, and Nine. For the rest of the districts, the chariot parade will be airing at the time previously scheduled. As for the District Three engineer who invented, created, and installed "Magnetic Thunder-Away," his trial will be held today at 1:00 pm, and his execution will be held tomorrow at 6:00 am. That's it for important news, and to fill the time…."

I don't need to watch until 8:00, so I have 45 minutes to kill. I might as well get some of my work done. I choose a willow tree far enough away from the Peacekeeper's house so that they won't hear me, but close enough so that I can still see the corner of their TV. I hang my sack between two low branches as usual, and begin to work.

I'm really glad when I finally hear Panem's anthem again, blaring through the windows of the house. The tree I had chosen was infested with aphids! I only cut a couple decent branches. I hurry towards the Peacekeeper's house so I don't miss anything.

"And now, brought to you live from the Capitol, the chariot parade!" says the announcer. There is a shot of the Capitol people cheering and whistling. Some of the whistles are so long and loud, and some are such complicated tunes, that it doesn't seem humanly possible. Then I notice that some of the Capitol citizens have devices that look like mini harmonicas strapped around their heads. I guess those things are whistling for them.

"District One!" yells the announcer, but he is almost drowned out by the mechanical whistlers. The camera zooms to the left and I see a chariot pulled by snow white horses coming out of an arched doorway. The horses' manes are encrusted with gems of every color. Their tails and hooves are too. I can't tear my eyes off of them—that is, until I see the District One tributes. The girl is wearing a long, form-fitting dress, and the boy is wearing a suit. And they are both dripping in jewels. They stand on the chariot waving top the crowd, and as they make their way around the path, the sun glints off of their costumes turning them into living rainbows. And they are probably the most beautiful people I have ever seen. In District Seven, I am considered very pretty because of my rare blonde hair (more of a dirty blonde, though), but compared to them, I am hideous! Like typical District One citizens, they have wavy, blond hair and bright blue eyes. They are both smiling radiantly, and suddenly I have a pang of jealousy. _I _could be the one standing in a chariot looking beautiful and having the mechanical whistlers whistle for me. I didn't have to be sitting in a tree with thousands of mosquitoes swarming around me. If only Arboren hadn't volunteered for me. I really do hate Arboren.


	10. A Tree

Districts Two, Three, Four, Five, and Six didn't even come close to looking as amazing as District One. But the girl from District Three was interesting. She had long, flaming red hair. She and her district partner were dressed in all black and dark gray; I guess it was to set off her hair, and it worked. Also, the tributes from District Ten looked ridiculous dressed as cows.

The crowd is cheering considerably less with each district. It makes sense though, because District One obviously had the best designers. By the time District Six has exited the stage, the crowd is barely clapping and the mechanical whistlers have long been quiet. It's District Seven's turn next. I hold my breath.

"District Seven!" the announcer booms. Then Securis and Arboren's chariot emerges from the archway.

There is a polite smattering of applause. They look horrible. Securis is dressed like a lumberjack, with a plaid shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He is holding an axe on his shoulder and looks completely bored. His eyes are blank and staring into the distance. Arboren is dressed as a tree. Why did they have to do that? It makes it seem like Securis is going to chop her down with his axe! Plus, painting someone completely brown and gluing leaves all over does not make her a convincing tree.

Arboren, however, is smiling as radiantly as the District One tributes and waving at the crowd. Although what she is wearing is dreadful, I am so jealous of her. If she hadn't volunteered for me, the designers would have actually had something to work with. Arboren does not look that good in many things, mostly because she is so tall and thin. If I had been in the chariot parade, I might have actually looked good. It could have been me.

After the District Twelve tributes (who are dressed in all black and have miner's helmets with the headlights on even though the sun is blazing) have finished their trip, the announcer's voice comes on again. "And that will do it for the chariot parade, ladies and gentlemen. Tune in on Thursday at 5:00 to view the tributes' training scores and interviews with our favorite host Caesar Flickerman! May the odds be ever in your favor!" And with that, the Peacekeeper shuts the television off.

I sigh. I have to wait _three whole days_ to watch again. And I still haven't figured out why my parents never let me see the Hunger Games.


	11. Waiting

The first two days of waiting slog by slowly. I swear the temperature has risen at least five degrees since the reapings. My mother, who is a weaver (meaning she takes the willow branches that I cut and weaves them into products that the Capitol uses—such as rocking chairs), always seems to need more branches than I cut, so this is the second time I've gone into the woods today. I've begged for a day off before, but she has never given in.

So for the third day, and the fourth time in a row, I am walking into the woods to a willow grove about fifteen minutes away. I almost there, something catches my sight. A rabbit is lying on the ground—with an arrow sticking straight through its head.

"Gaaahhh!" I yell and almost throw up. Its brains and blood have soaked into its fur, so that its head is stained a bright red in contrast to its normally brown fur. This isn't what a dead animal is supposed to look like. When Arboren brought us animals that she had killed with her slingshot, they looked like they were sleeping peacefully—they were clean, limp, and had their eyes closed.

The rabbit is really starting to creep me out. Its eyes are open, but glazed over, and are staring forwards at nothing. I don't want to look at it any longer, so I turn around—and come face to face with Ash.

"So I see you've found my dinner," he says.

"Why do you have to do that?" I ask after I get over my surprise.

"Do what?'

"Keep popping up like that! You're always there when I don't expect it, you could give me a little warning! Anyway, could you please do something with that rabbit? Like cover it up or something; I don't like looking at it."

He laughs and says, "Capitol girl," but goes and puts it in a bag that he is carrying anyway.

I sigh, "Will you stop calling me that? I live in District Seven, same as you."

"Yeah, well you act like you're from the Capitol."

"So? I don't think the Capitol bad at all," I retort. Seriously, I seem to be the only person who hates District Seven. All the other girls at my school spend recess climbing trees in the woods. Personally, I try to stay in the cafeteria to avoid the freak rain showers in the spring, the snow in the winter, and the bugs in the fall. Also, Ash seems to think that "Capitol girl" is some sort of insult—it's not, though, but it is annoying.

"Have you ever been to the Capitol?" he asks.

"No…." I say cautiously; I have no idea why he asked that.

"Well, remember how three years ago, one of our district's tributes won the Games?"

"Yes!" I say excitedly. I remember the party at the end of the victory tour was the most exciting thing that happened in my whole life. It was amazing and felt unreal to be there, with all the music and dancing. I had been to one other when I was very little, but this was the first one that I had been old enough to remember.

Ash continues, "He was my friend from school—a couple grades above me, but we knew each other pretty well. And in the middle of the victory tour party, I went over to congratulate him. But I hesitated when I noticed that something was wrong. Even though he had just won the Hunger Games, his eyes were red and puffy and it was obvious that he'd been crying—a lot. I almost turned away to leave him alone, when he came over and mumbled something in my ear about wanting to talk to me. 'In the ox shed in fifteen minutes—don't bring anyone,' he said to me. So fifteen minutes later, I headed over to the ox shed, being very careful so that no one noticed where I was going. When I got to the ox shed, I saw him sitting on a bale of hay. He beckoned me over and I sat on a bale next to him. 'I'm going back to the Capitol,' he told me, 'I don't want to—I hate it there, with all those silly, stupid people, and of course President Snow who is not stupid at all—but they made me.' In the dark of the ox shed, he looked even younger than me. 'I'm to become one of the guards that stand outside of the Capitol's gates. And if I don't they kill someone I love—it's true, I talked to the other tributes." He paused. 'Take care of my family, Ash, I know I can trust you.' Then—leaving me sitting there on that bale of hay, he got up and left the ox shed. That was the last time I saw him." Ash gives a small cough and pauses for a second. "Never trust the Capitol," he says.


	12. Starvation

"But how could the Capitol do that?" I ask, bewildered, "They all seem so happy there." It doesn't make sense at all.

"Oh, it's not the Capitol citizens that are the problem," Ash says, "It's the President—President Snow. He makes the citizens feel happy by giving them riches that the people in the districts make. They don't want to leave because all they want is luxury, which only the Capitol can provide. Snow is the only truly corrupt one."

I still don't want to believe Ash, but his story about his friend seems so real that it almost makes me understand. Then, out of nowhere, my stomach grumbles. It's so loud, that Ash can hear it.

"Was that your stomach?" he asks, laughing.

"Yes…." I say, embarrassed.

"When did you last eat?"

The truth is that it is not at all close to winter, and Arboren did not anticipate volunteering for the Hunger Games, so she hadn't stockpiled on food yet. We had eaten the last bits of Arboren's duck for dinner yesterday. "Last night," I answer.

"Maybe I can spare a bit of this rabbit for you," Ash says, patting his bag with the rabbit inside of it. I cringe at the thought of eating that disgusting thing. "Or I can teach you to hunt your own food."

"Ack!" I yelp, and Ash laughs.

"Capitol girl," he says, "Here, I'll show you how to shoot with a bow an arrow."

"Nope," I declare, "that is not happening."

"Face it—you're hungry—and by tomorrow you'll be starving. See? This is just another horrible thing that the Capitol is doing to us. They keep the food and everything else that we slave to give them, while they watch us starve."

I want to back out, I really want to—I don't like the idea of hunting—but then I think of Arboren's five younger siblings. The oldest—Ornice—was twelve and this was his first year being eligible for the reaping. The baby was Kezia, who was born just four months ago. The three in the middle were named Briar, Lieu, and Liv. I had known them for my whole life and regarded them as my younger siblings as will as Arboren's. Like myself, they will starve without Arboren's help. No matter how much I hate her now, her siblings will always be family.

"Ok, teach me how to hunt," I say.

* * *

><p><strong>If you have noticed that all the names of the citizens of District Seven have to do with trees, it WAS done on purpose!<strong>


	13. Hunting

It takes five hours, 20 arrows, eight bandages for my fingers, three angry grooslings, and a new bowstring before I finally kill my first squirrel. And I almost throw up at the sight of it.

The arrow I shot seemed to have punctured every one of its vital organs, because it is a mess of blood and guts. Its gray fur isn't even visible anymore. And I am surprised that I did that to it—before today I had never hurt a living thing! I don't want to touch the squirrel, so I just stand over its dead body and contemplate what to do next. Should I give it a burial? I feel so bad killing it—it could have had a whole squirrel family to look after! When I was young, I always wanted a pet squirrel; I always thought they were the cutest animals. Tears start to well up in my eyes when I look at the one I just killed. Just minutes ago it was playing in the trees—until _I _shot it! Why did I have to do it? I am a horrible person.

"That one doesn't have much meat on it, plus, it's going to be hard to clean," says Ash, who had walked up behind me.

Oh, right. I killed it because I was going to eat it. Now everything that happened in the past few days rushes back to my memory. I tear off a piece of my sack and use it to pick up the dead squirrel and put it in my sack.

"Give me another arrow," I order Ash.

He looks at me with a really surprised expression. "You're going to try that again? I thought you'd chicken out after the one you just shot."

I don't like his attitude, but I pretend not to notice the mockery in his voice. "Don't be silly, I need more than one squirrel to feed two families."

I spend the next couple hours hunting squirrels, and I end up killing three more, and a groosling. I had never noticed this before, but there are different types of squirrels. I had only observed the generic gray ones before today. But now I realize that there are reddish ones, ones with really puffy tails, and ones with really skinny tails. And my newfound favorites: the jet black ones (which I had tried not to kill).

By the time the sun is setting, I am tired, sweaty, but pleased with myself. Each kill was neater that the previous one, and I only lost three more arrows. I walk over to where I left my sack, and find it filled to the top with willow branches! I had completely forgot about my job, but how did that happen?

"While you were hunting, I cut some branches for you," says Ash as he hands me back my knife.

I am unsure of what to say. I hand him back his bow and quiver (with only two arrows left) and just say, "Thanks." I sling my sack, which is now heavy with wood, over my shoulder and start to walk back to my house.

"It's getting dark out, are you sure you won't get lost again, Capitol girl?" Ash calls after me. I sigh. Why does he always have to make fun of me like that? Didn't I just kill four squirrels and a groosling?

"No!" I yell back, "Goodbye!"

* * *

><p><strong>Feel free to review my work. Constructive criticism is fine: I want to know if my writing is interestingboring, unique/repetitive, good/bad, and I will edit if I have to.**


	14. Lynde

I figure that I have about an hour left before my parents get really nervous about my absence. I will have to hurry if I want to stop by Arboren's house to give her mother some of my squirrels.

The sight of her house had always been a comfort to me; Arboren's family was my family, and mine hers. Although both of our houses look exactly the same (they are both the small, regulated log cabins given to each family in District Seven, Arboren's house, unlike mine, always had the touches of a happy home. Little carvings made by her brother, Ornice, from wood scraps hung on the walls. And her mother, Lynde, always made sure that there were sweet smelling flowers in the large vase on the central table.

When Lynde answers the door after I knock, she seems distressed and miserable—which is so unlike her. If I was her, I would be very happy that my daughter finally got a chance to go to the Capitol.

"Oh, hello Ellery," she says. "It's nice to see you, would you like to come in?"

"Sorry, Lynde, I can't today," I reply, even though visiting is something I always want to do, "I just came to give you something." I dig around in my sack and pull out two of the least-messy squirrels.

"I know that Arboren isn't here to help, so I decided to go hunting myself."

Lynde looks at me in amazement and takes the squirrels. "You did…? You shot these…?" She seems at a loss for words. I guess I understand why—I hadn't ever done anything like this before.

"Thank you!" she says and smiles at me. I take out my one groosling and give that to her, too. Lynde looks so happy that she could cry. Then I feel myself choking up also, just because of all the memories I have of Arboren, and how I would love to stay at her house at the fireplace, surrounded by both of our families. But I stop myself, because I realize that if Arboren hadn't volunteered for me, then I would be in the Capitol now, which is definitely even nicer than Arboren's house.

I say goodbye to Lynde, and finish the walk back to my house. A couple meters away from my door, I realize that I will have some explaining to do. The fingers on my right hand are all taped up because whenever I would shoot an arrow, it would rip the top layer of skin off of my fingers. After a number of arrows, it would start to bleed. Fortunately, Ash had some bandages with him just for that purpose, but I couldn't tell Mother or Father that I was out in the woods hunting—it's against the law, and they are extremely protective over me. Secondly, I'd have to explain the squirrels. I sit down under a tree so that I was hidden from any view out of the windows of the house and try to work things out.

After a couple of minutes, I come up with my plan. While cutting willow branches, the knife had accidentally slipped and cut my fingers (this worked because some of the branches were already covered in squirrel blood). They started bleeding heavily, so I had to stop at Arboren's house to get them bandaged, and while I was there, Lynde gave me the two squirrels, which were left over from Arboren's last hunting trip.

I stand up and head towards my house. The details of my fabricated story basically work out, but I hope that my lie will get past them.


	15. Close Call

I wake up before the sun rises on Thursday morning, because today is the day of the tributes' interviews. That was all that the announcer said three days ago after I had watched the parade on the Peacekeepers' television. The interviews are supposed to air at 5:00 pm, so I had decided to get the all of my willow branch collecting done before I watched, so I wouldn't procrastinate and have my parents get suspicious. Speaking of my parents, they hadn't suspected anything when I had come in with a bandaged hand and two squirrels for dinner last night; they completely believed my story! That's a relief—for now. What will be my excuse for all the other times I will have to hunt?

Even early in the morning, the atmosphere in the woods feels heavy with moisture. It's disgusting—if the interviews weren't today, I would try to stay inside. I find my way to the Peacekeepers' cabin, without getting lost this time, and set up my willow branch collecting sack in a good tree. By 4:55, I have collected a good day's worth of branches—and I'm soaked in sweat, because it seems that the temperature has already risen about ten degrees since I woke up.

I climb through the interlocking branches of the willow trees until I am comfortably positioned in a tree looking into the Peacekeepers' living room. They haven't turned on the television yet, and I don't even see them in the room at all.

_Squeak!_

I immediately freeze at the sound of the hinges of a door. The back door of the Peacekeepers' cabin—the one I am only five meters away from—is slowly opening. I hope the curtain of leaves is thick enough to hide me from their sight.

_Squeak!_

The door is open completely, and I see a boot step out of the doorway. Even though the Peacekeeper doesn't see me yet, I climb—careful not to make any noise—behind a thick branch that I was originally leaning against.

But the Peacekeeper is now walking towards the tree I am in! He is carrying a large sack; it's pretty big, big enough to fit…ME? Suddenly I am terrified. Did the Peacekeepers see me the last time I was here? Or maybe they saw me hunting in the woods yesterday? I don't dare make a sound, but the Peacekeeper continues walking towards me. I hold my breath now. He's getting closer and closer, and he's starting to open the bag….

And he dumps the remains of last night's dinner into the compost heap that was located at the base of the tree I am in.

"Phew!" I let go of my breath. But then immediately check if the Peacekeeper has heard me. He hasn't and walks back inside his cabin and shuts the door. I don't completely relax, though, until he and the other Peacekeeper sit down on the couch, prop their feet up on the coffee table, and switch on the television. It's time for the interviews.


	16. The Interviews

"As you all probably know," says Caesar Flickerman—the interviewer and "The Voice of the Hunger Games", "for the past three days, our twenty four tributes have been participating in intense training sessions to prepare for this year's Games. Last night, they each had an individual session with the Gamemakers, in which they showed off their strongest talents and were judged on a scale of 0-12. Hopefully, none of our favorites so far have gotten low scores! In one moment, we will be showing their training scores, and then we will start our interviews."

I stare and stare at the screen. During the chariot parade, the camera was mainly zoomed in on the tributes, so I had never gotten a chance to see the citizens of the Capitol up close. But this time, the camera routinely makes sweeps across the audience, and I am amazed at what I see. There are 5,000 Milly Hamermills sitting in a gigantic auditorium with about 20 levels of box seats lining the sides. Women died blue and covered in peacock feathers, men with their eyebrows artfully shaved in complex patterns, children holding small dogs with pastel-colored fur…. They were all smiling and eating small sweets passed around by people in plain, white tunics. I wish I was there.

The camera moves away from the crowd to point at the large screen behind the chair in which Caesar is. The audience gets quieter as it is evident that the training scores will be announced shortly. The face of the District One girl flashes onto the screen, along with the number 9. The audience cheers loudly—so I guess that 9 is a very good score. I see the District One girl grin and look very pleased with herself from her seat next to the other tributes. Twenty four chairs are lined up around the far edge of the stage and a tribute is seated in each ordered by district—One on stage right, going all the way around to Twelve on stage left. I try to make out Arboren, but she is too far away for me too see her face.

Then the face of the boy from District One is on the screen. Seconds later, the number 10 flashes under his picture. The audience applauds even louder for him, and his district partner looks pretty dismayed. I wonder how the Gamemakers give the tributes these scores. And what did they all do in training? What do they train for? I'm actually exceptionally good at dancing. If Arboren hadn't volunteered for me, I bet I could have gotten the highest score by showing the Gamemakers my dancing! But now I won't get that chance.

Only the District Two boy matches the District One boy's score so far; all the others have been pretty low. The districts go by: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Then Arboren's photograph is on the screen. She scores a 6. I think that's an okay score given that there were some 1s and 2s. But I bet that I could have done much better.

The rest of the scores go by, and it is time for the actual interviews. District One goes first. How could I ever forget the District One girl? On the day of the chariot rides, she looked radiant (literally—the rays of the sun were reflected off of her jewel-covered gown) and definitely drew the most applause from the crowd. I was immediately jealous of her. As she is introduced to the cheering crowd, I find out her name is Emberlynn. Emberlynn is dressed in a tight black dress and metallic boots that reach her mid-thigh. Caesar Flickerman asks her questions, and she replies, smiling. The audience is cheering and laughing along with them. Again I wish that I could be in Emberlynn's place, on that stage with a crowd clapping for me. But I'm still in District Seven, and I have Arboren to blame for that.

The District One boy boasts that he will definitely win the Games, "Because I'm so strong!" He looks like one of the workers from the lumber section of District Seven because of his bulging muscles, which I actually think look pretty grotesque. But I don't really understand why being strong is apparently a huge asset in the Hunger Games. You don't have to be strong to win all games. On stormy days, instead of going outside for lunch at school, we stay inside and play board games. I happen to be very good at them, even though I am so weak and small. Why does strength matter so much to him?

Each tribute has exactly three minutes to be interviewed, so after 36 minutes, it is Arboren's turn.


	17. More Trees

The spotlight turns to find her, as she stands up to walk over to Caesar, and—_what is she wearing! _Drapedover her shoulders is a shapeless, greenish-tan gown. The cloth is covered in a print of small trees. It looks hideous on her, and it would look hideous on anyone. However, Arboren walks like a fashion model to the tributes' interview chair in center stage.

"So, Arboren," says Caesar Flickerman, "we are very pleased to have you here with us from District Seven! Tell me, what do you like most about living in the Capitol, even if it is for just a short time."

"I just love all the great fashions here," says Arboren. That's weird, I think, Arboren has never cared about fashion in her life. "I want to thank my stylist for creating such beautiful outfits for me to wear at the chariot parade and tonight."

"And your stylist is…Savanna?" asks Caesar.

"That's right."

"Well, Savanna," Caesar calls into the wings, "Why don't you come out onto the stage!" A moment later, a giggling, blushing woman wearing twelve-inch stilettos teeters onto stage. The already cheering crowd gets even louder as she bows—gets embarrassed from stage fright—and rushes off again.

When the audience calms down a bit, Caesar leans forwards to ask Arboren another question. From what I've seen with the other tributes' interviews, he is getting ready to ask a serious question now.

"So I hear that you are a volunteer," he says.

"Yes, I am."

"It's not often that we get volunteers from outlying districts," says Caesar, " it's very rare, in fact. So tell me, Arboren, why did you volunteer?"

"I volunteered for my best friend." The screens behind them turn to a replay of the District Seven reapings. They have sped everything up, so I have to carefully watch to catch everything that is happening. I see myself walking happily up to stage, then a shot of Arboren yelling, "I volunteer," and a shot of me screaming at her and starting to cry. I am suddenly as embarrassed as Savannah was. They are showing the video of me having a tantrum on national television!

"You must really care about her then, right?"

"Yes, she is practically family to me. But the real reason I volunteered for her," says Arboren, and the audience is silent, "was that she has absolutely no chance in these Games. I'm not saying that I can win, but at least I will give District Seven somebody to root for!"

I can't believe that Arboren is saying that about me! Of course I had a chance—I had as good a chance as every single one of the tributes. Until Arboren took it from me. She is just saying that to justify how she is living a luxurious life in the Capitol while I am near starving here in District Seven!

"That's a very good attitude to have!" Exclaims Caesar Flickerman, "I don't think any one of us should overlook you."

He asks a couple more questions. Behind them, the replay of the reapings is still playing. It has repeated itself a couple of times already, because I see the shot of myself walking up to the stage again. But before the camera switches to Arboren, I see another shot that I must have missed before. It is of my parents. The look absolutely stunned. Then I see my mother start to cry, and she buries her face in my father's arms. He looks like he's crying too, and he's also moaning something. I can't hear him because of the noise from the audience in the Capitol, but I read his lips, and he's saying, "Not again, not again, not again…."

"Let's give a round of applause for our District Seven tribute!" Interjects Caesar. The buzzer indicating the end of an interview goes off and the crowd cheers and whistles as Arboren, smiling, curtsies and makes her way back to her chair.

But I can't get the tortured faces of my parents, and definitely not my father's words, out of my head. They are branded there forever.


	18. Nightmare

I really want to ask my parents about their reaction to my being reaped. Shouldn't they have been happy to have their only daughter go to the Capitol? Isn't it an honor to win—or at least participate in—the Hunger Games? But I can't bring it up or they will suspect my secret.

But fortunately, they act normally all throughout dinner, and don't notice if I'm a little quieter or if I stare at them for bits of time. We finish my/Arboren's last squirrel, reminding me that I will have to go hunting again—Lynde could probably use some more food, too.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, no doubt. I will have my normal job of collecting a sack full of willow branches, and I will have to find Ash and ask him if I could use his bow to hunt more food, but most importantly, the actual Games start tomorrow.

10:00 am.

10:00 am is the time I have been waiting impatiently for ever since my last conversation with Arboren, when she asked me, 'Do you know why your parents don't let you watch the Hunger Games?' Hopefully the answer will come clear when the Games start, but I still have a whole 12 hours to wait! I don't know if I can make it until that time!

I try to get a decent night's sleep, but I'm way too restless. I get up to drink water from the well outside our cabin about four times, and go outside to use the bathroom about that many times, too. I really want to go to sleep. But when I finally fall asleep at about three in the morning, I wish I was awake. I have the most terrible nightmare.

_I am walking up to the stage in the Square after being reaped. _

_ "I volunteer!" yells Arboren. She rushes up to the stage and pulls me off. Securis is called, but when he and Arboren shake hands, they turn into dead rabbits! They just lie there on the stage with blood dripping down from the platform. _

_ I scream in disgust from my position on the ground. I still hate Arboren for what she did to me, but this is too much!_

_ "Again!" bubbles Milly. She reaches into the glass bowls and calls out two more names. "Ornice Darrow! Lieu Darrow!" I watch helplessly as Arboren's younger brother and sister walk up to the stage. As soon as they shake hands, they turn into dead squirrels! I am still screaming, and tears are rolling down my face. I struggle to run up to the stage to save them, but I am suddenly covered in sticky syrup. It binds my arms and legs together until I can't move; I can only scream more. But that won't help a bit._

_ "Again!" chirps Milly, obviously delighted in herself. "Briar Darrow and Liv Darrow!" I am horrified. I don't want all of Arboren's siblings to turn into dead animals! But as Briar and Liv shake hands, the morph into dead grooslings. I start screaming again, because I realize that the next one to be reaped will be baby Kezzy, but syrup fills my mouth and nostrils making it impossible to breathe at all. I start sinking down in the amber-colored goo, and I hear Father calling, "Not again, not again, not again…."_


	19. Sick

"Not again, Ellery!"

I jolt awake to find my parents leaning over my bed with concerned looks on their faces. I am lying in a mess of tangled blankets and pools of my own sweat.

"You were already sick for a week last school year," says Father.

"What?" I ask, garbled.

Mother touches my forehead with the back of her hand. "You definitely have a high fever."

"_What? _I can't be sick today!" I almost jump out of bed in my realization that I might miss the beginning of the Hunger Games. My parents look confused. "I mean, you still need more branches. It's almost Collection Day, and you haven't finished that big rocking chair you were working on." Collection Day is when the Capitol train runs through District Seven to pick up the goods we have produced. There are four Collection Days each year—one for each season. The one coming up is the summer Collection Day.

"Well actually," admits Mother, "you did such a good job—when was it—the day before yesterday, that I have enough to finish it today. I think I'll give you a day off today, until you feel completely better."

I smile and thank her as Father brings me a tin cup full of water and a pancake. I lie in bed while I watch Mother weave the branches that "I," but in actuality Ash, had collected into the rocking chair. I listen to the sound of Father's axe splitting wood along its grain to make shingles. I could spend the entire day here—I am actually feeling kind of feverish.

It's getting close to 9:30, when I get out of bed, put on my clothes, and ask Mother if I could go into the woods.

"Why would you do that?" she asks me, surprised. It is a shock to anyone if I ever want to into the woods at all.

"Well, I'm feeling a little better," I lie—I'm still very lethargic, "and I think it would be a good idea to go to the lake for a swim. It would cool me down."

She considers that. "Okay, you can go. But if you start to feel sick again, _come back immediately. _And be sure to be home before sundown today."

"Thank you so much!" I say. I am getting very good at this lying business.


	20. The Games

The air is heavy with moisture, and it is very hard to breathe. It's also about 80 degrees out. Altogether, it's not ideal weather for someone trying to recover from a fever. I'm not surprised to see Ash step out from behind a tree. I've gotten used to his tendency of randomly appearing everywhere.

"Hi," I say as I walk towards him.

"Hey," Ash said, "so today I was thinking we could try for some bigger game. Maybe a rabbit or a weasel or something—"

"Sorry," I cut him off, "but I'm already late. Hunting will have to wait for a few hours."

"Why?"

"I have to watch the beginning of the Hunger Games!"

"Oh," he replies, his expression suddenly darkening, "I thought you would have given up on that by now."

"No! Of course not. My best friend is competing, and I want to support her."

"Did you watch the interviews last night?"

"Yes." What do they have to do with Arboren and the Games today?

"What was her training score?"

"Six."

He looks at me, concerned. "I really advise you not to watch them. Just stop now and you won't ever regret it."

"Why shouldn't I watch?"

He doesn't answer this. "Please just don't." Ash looks so tortured now, so unlike his usual energetic self, that I am almost scared by his mood.

"You don't have to come, but I'm still going to watch," I say and march off towards the Peacekeepers' house. Ashe stands there far a moment looking helpless, and then runs off in the other direction.

I get settled in my tree just in time to hear the national anthem of Panem finishing. Then the cameras show a wide shot of a vast field. There is a large, shining thing located in the center, and about twenty or so dots in a circle around it. The cameras zoom closer and I realize that the shiny object looks woven into a half-U shape with a point at one end. It's a cornucopia! Mother often weaves small cornucopiae out of the branches I bring her. Most of them go off to the Capitol, but we keep a couple sometimes. The camera is now close enough that I can count the circles ringing the cornucopia. There are twenty four.

"In less than ten seconds, our tributes will we arriving!" says the announcer, whose name I find out is Claudius Templesmith. The metal surfaces of the circles start to move, and I realize that there were twenty four of them because there are twenty four tributes! The tributes are literally rising from the ground.

The cameras sweep about the scenery. The cornucopia is located on a small hill in the center of a gigantic field. It seems as if the field goes on forever, until I realize that far off, there are trees. To the left of the circle of tributes, is a giant mountain capped with snow. I stare jealously at the mountain—how I would love to be in the snow right mow!

Now the TV is showing shots of various tributes' faces, because the have completely risen from the ground. I see Emberlynn staring intently ahead of her, her district partner crouching in a down-start, a little girl from District Nine (which I can tell from the number embroidered on her sleeve) looking absolutely terrified, and Arboren with a determined look in her eyes.

They show another shot of the cornucopia, and this time I see what's inside of the mouth. Piles and pile of weapons! That really surprises me. What would any of the tributes need with weapons?

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 54th Hunger Games begin!" bellows Claudius Templesmith. A clock appears in the lower right hand side of the TV screen. It is counting down from 60.

60, 59, 58…. I still don't know what to expect when the count down reaches zero.

45, 44, 43…. Are the Hunger Games a contest of speed? Maybe that's why the boy from District One is positioned in a down-start.

38, 37, 36…. Or maybe they're a giant scavenger hunt, and the weapons in the cornucopia are clues.

22, 21, 20…. Why do some tributes look scared to death?

11, 10, 9…. I can't believe it—I'm finally going to watch the Games!

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0! The tributes rush off of their metal plates—some go towards the Cornucopia, but most sprint away. Emberlynn grabs a javelin from the center of the pile of weapons at the cornucopia, throws it, and it lodges itself in the head of the scared girl from District Nine.

* * *

><p><strong>School is finally over (I had my last Regents test yesterday), so I will probably update faster from now on.<strong>


	21. Girl From Nine

I scream silently. _What just happened? _I'm stumbling out of my perch in the tree, running a couple hundred meters, and throwing up my breakfast. But everything seems unreal—my mind is separated from my body. I'm running the rest of the way home, walking in the door, collapsing in Mother's arms.

"Ellery! What happened?"

I don't really know, myself, I think. "I'm still sick I guess," I moan.

"Yes, you are," she says, "I shouldn't have let you go out until you were completely better."

I am extremely grateful to lie back in my bed again. But the face of the dead girl from Nine repeatedly makes her way into my mind.

Her brains and blood have soaked into her hair, so that her head is stained a bright red in contrast to her normally brown hair. This isn't what a dead person is supposed to look like. When Arboren brought us animals that she had killed with her slingshot, they looked like they were sleeping peacefully—they were clean, limp, and had their eyes closed.

The girl is really starting to creep me out. Her eyes are open, but glazed over, and are staring forwards at nothing. I don't want to look at her any longer, but I can't help it.

After lying in bed for hours, it is close to dinnertime. Mother comes over and feels my head.

"Good news," she tells me, "You feel much cooler; I think your fever is gone." In fact, I do feel much better now. I get up out of bed, hungry now, because I had skipped lunch. Unfortunately, dinner was only porridge made of acorn meal. It is surprisingly filling, although it has a very bland taste. I eat it without complaining like I normally do, though. I'm too tired to talk, let alone complain.

After dinner, I fall into a sleep filled with images of the mutilated District Nine girl and Emberlynn throwing the spear that ended her life. Why did she kill her? Why didn't the Peacekeepers in the house react as I did? Why didn't the other tributes do something? Why didn't the announcer say anything? How does any of this make sense?


	22. Explanation

As disgusted as I was yesterday, I decide to go back and try to watch the Hunger Games again. I have to go into the woods anyway, Father asked me to collect firewood. Who knows what we'll need firewood for in this weather, but it's my job today to gather it, so I have to do it. I find a couple nice, large branches that have fallen from the trees and bundle them together with a long, rough length of cord that I brought for that purpose. Last night's dinner was disappointing, so I'm also going to have to hunt some more today. I hope I see Ash so I can borrow his bow again.

Fortunately and surprisingly, when I reach the Peacekeepers' cabin, Ash is sitting in my normal tree.

"You've got some explaining to do," I tell him. He puts a finger to his lips and points with his other hand through the window to where the Peacekeepers are settling down to watch. I go silent; they might have heard me.

Ash carefully and silently leads me about 200 meters away from the house. We sit on a low, horizontal willow branch.

"So you saw them," he says.

"Yeah," I reply, though he didn't really ask a question because he already knew what the answer would be.

"Okay. I'll start from the beginning." Ash takes a deep breath. "The Hunger Games is a game of death. Twenty four children are selected to battle against each other until there's only one left alive—the victor."

I am horrified. "But why?"

"You learned about the Rebellion in school, right?"

"Yes." Every year in history class, we were taught the same thing: fifty four years ago, the districts led a rebellion against the Capitol, which, at that time, was very corrupt. But the Capitol, with the help of a new leader—the president Snow—was able to control the districts and unify them under the power of the Capitol. Ever after that, the Capitol kept the districts safe, while they provided food and goods for the Capitol.

"Well, the one thing they never taught you, is that to keep the districts in line, the Hunger Games was established."

"How would that work?" I would think that having your children killed is only another reason to rebel."

"Because whenever there is a victor, the other districts feel resentment towards whichever district the victor came from. Let's say the victor was from District Two, and he had just killed the last other tribute, who was from Four. Now, District Four will have much more bitterness towards Two because their victor just took the life of one of their citizens. The Hunger Games disunities the districts, and the only way to have a successful rebellion is to be united."

I take all of that in. "That's horrible."

Ash laughs, "I knew you weren't a Capitol girl at heart!"

I hear a loud cheer coming from the Peacekeepers' home. And then it sinks in: Arboren might die. Actually, she will _probably _die, because there are twenty three other bloodthirsty tributes along with her, who are probably just waiting to get a spear in her head like Emberlynn did to the District Nine girl. She could be dead already.

"I'm still going to watch," I say, "I can't stand knowing or not knowing if Arboren is okay."

"I'll come too," says Ash, which shocks me, because of his pledge never to watch the Games. I wonder what made him change his mind.

As we walk back to the Peacekeepers' cabin, I become conscious of the fact that if Arboren hadn't volunteered for me, I would be in the Hunger Games right now. Now I understand why she didn't let me go. I get sick if I see too much blood, and I'm way to small and weak to take on the bigger tributes. And I definitely don't hate Arboren anymore, now that I understand everything that was happening. I could have been the one to face death. It could have been me.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to anyone who reviewed so far.<strong>


	23. The Careers

I had missed all of day one of the Games after I ran home yesterday, and a lot of action. The Bloodbath, as Ash had told me it was called (and very rightfully called), had already ended last night, and the bodies of the dead tributes had been collected.

"To recap yesterday's events," says Claudius Templesmith, "Only nine tributes were killed, which is definitely a low number compared to previous years."

Nine tributes killed was a _low number?_ I cross my fingers and hope that Arboren wasn't one of those nine.

On the screen in back of the table at which Claudius Templesmith is sitting, simple face shots of the tributes that had been killed in the Bloodbath are being shown. I guess it's in the order of the districts because first they show the girl from Two, then both tributes from District Five, and then the boy from District Six. My sharp pain suddenly shoots through my stomach—the next district in order is Seven. And the next picture they show is of the boy from Eight.

So both Arboren and Securis made it through one day. I could never imagine doing that; I'd definitely die in the Bloodbath. The rest of the faces are shown on the screen: both tributes from Nine (I remember the girl who Emberlynn killed), the girl from Eleven, and the boy from Twelve.

Now, back to the Games," says Claudius. The camera shows six tributes milling about the cornucopia. I can tell that one of them is Emberlynn, and another is her district partner, but I'm not sure who the others are.

"Why aren't they killing each other?" I whisper to Ash.

"They're the Careers. They train for the Hunger Games for their whole lives, and when they are old enough, they often volunteer. It's normally just Districts One, Two, and Four, but I think this time, one of them is from Three," answers Ash, squinting at the screen.

"And they're allies?"

"Yeah, but other tributes can form alliances, too."

The Careers seem to be organizing the contents of the cornucopia. The cameras are zoomed in so close to them, that I realize that there must me cameras hidden inside the arena. Emberlynn holds a sword out to the boy from District Two.

"Here, Bryant," she says, "I found a whole stash of swords back there. There are about five more other than this one."

The District Two boy—Bryant—takes the sword and looks it over. He weighs it in his hands, and runs a finger over the blade. Then he lashes out and cuts through the wooden handle of a spiked mace so that the iron head crashes to the ground.

"Nice," he says in admiration.

The burly District One boy takes a couple of knives and stows them in a belt that he had wrapped around his waist. The two District Four tributes take nets and tridents, because Four specializes in fishing. Something is different about the District Four tributes from the other Careers—they're much smaller. They can't be more than thirteen years old, which means that they're probably not volunteers, but they got reaped.

The District Three tribute, who is smaller than the District One and Two tributes, but larger by far than the tributes from Four, is organizing the goods that were in the cornucopia. He has separated the weapons from the food, and now has two high piles in the mouth of the cornucopia.

"You sure you don't need any weapons, Ayden?" asks the District One boy.

"Yeah. I mean yes, I don't need anything else. Just this." He pats a small flask that is peeking out of his pocket. I have no idea what it contains, but it can't be good.

The screen switches back to Claudius Templesmith. "Those six seem to be this year's Careers, and there's no doubt that they will dominate the Games…." He drones on and on. I don't care about the Careers; I want to know about Arboren!


	24. My Bow

When I get home that night, Father happily takes the firewood I had collected to the shed behind our house, and Mother happily takes the two, fat rabbits I shot using Ash's bow to be skinned and cooked.

"I stopped by Arboren's home again," I say. I have to start varying my explanations, though. By the fifth time I "stop by Arboren's home" my parents will definitely know something's up.

"Well, next time you talk to Lynde, thank her greatly," says Mother. "These will make two great winter hats."

We eat rabbit stew for dinner, and I go to bed with a full stomach. But then I think of Arboren. She most definitely did not have a yummy dinner of rabbit tonight because the Careers had commandeered all the food. Ash had told me that it wasn't likely that she even got away from the cornucopia with anything, because it is practically suicide to run into all the fighting that takes place there, if you aren't in a previously arranged alliance like the Careers. Finally I fall asleep.

The next morning I meet Ash by the low willow tree with the horizontal branch. This has become our meeting spot before we watch the Hunger Games.

"I brought you something today," Ash tells me.

"What?" I'm excited.

Ash hands me a long piece of wood. I'm confused for a second, but then I realize that it's a bow!

"It's really annoying when you have to use mine all the time," he says. "Oh, and these are for you, too." He slings his quiver off of his back and takes out six arrows.

"You're giving these to me?"

"Yeah, I have a couple different bows, just in case something happens to one. But I figured that I wouldn't need all of them."

"Thanks!" I say, genuinely pleased.

I stow my bow and arrows in a hollow log just a few feet from the low willow tree. I obviously can't take them home because it's illegal to own a weapon, and I can't have my parents find out that I've been hunting illegally.

We settle down in the tree near the Peacekeepers' window to find out that there had been a lot of action last night in the Games. The faces of the two District Four Careers are shown on the screen.

"In a cold-blooded attack in the middle of the night," Claudius Templesmith is saying, "these two tributes were slain each by one of the District One tributes. Although yesterday was a relatively quiet day, it wasn't satisfying to see them go down without a fight. Hopefully today, we will see even more action."

The cameras show the Careers eating a breakfast of apples and bread with butter. With the deaths of the District Four tributes, there are only four Careers left. Abruptly, Bryant, the boy from District Two, points to the left and starts shouting. All the Careers stand up and shoulder small backpacks. A thin line of smoke curls its way through the clear, blue sky.

"Time for kill number three!" shouts the boy from District One.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Glint," laughs Emberlynn, "You had the last one; it's Bryant's turn today."

The Careers run across the field and into the woods. It takes them no time to find the boy from District Eleven, who is just about to take a big bite out of the plant root he had been roasting. Glint picks him up by his neck and Bryant aims his sword.

The boy is struggling helplessly. "No, please!" he cries, "I'll do anything! I—"

I shut my eyes tightly and cover my ears, but that doesn't block the sickening screams of the boy from Eleven as Bryant runs his sword through him.

When I don't hear the sounds of torture or of Emberlynn's smug giggles, I finally look back at the TV. And I see Arboren!

"Ladies and gentlemen," says Claudius Templesmith, "it seems as if we have another alliance forming. District Eight female and both District Sevens."

* * *

><p><strong>I have given names to all of the chapters! There were getting to be so many that it felt unorganized, so now they are easier to tell apart.<strong>


	25. Alliance

Arboren's face is all scratched up, her hair is a mess, and it looks as if she hasn't slept or ate for days. She probably hasn't. She is sitting on the ground under a tree and looking at her left leg. She moves the fabric of her black pants, and I gasp. There is a line of red cutting across her thigh.

"Hey, Arboren, I got some bandages if you want some. Found them in the backpack I picked up." A girl with straight, dark hair and hazel eyes squats next to Arboren and holds out a roll of white cloth. She must be the District Eight tribute.

"Thanks." Arboren takes a length of bandage gratefully and begins to wrap them around her leg. She has to rip her pants even further to get the bandages to go all the way around.

"Arboren, Velour?" a worried voice calls from off the screen. "I think they're coming this way." It's Securis. And "they" must be the Careers. Arboren quickly jumps up, but winces as she puts weight on her injured leg.

"We should get out of here," says Velour, the dark-haired girl. They start walking through the woods. The area in which they are traveling through isn't at all like the woods of District Seven. The trees are small and sparsely placed, and high grasses and flowering weeds grow in between them making it hard to walk fast. The trees don't provide any sort of cover.

"Down!" whisper-yells Velour with such authority that both Arboren and Securis immediately obey and fall into the grass. As soon as the three of them hit the ground, they completely disappear—the tall grasses that had impeded their walking are able to make them invisible!

And it is the Careers. Jubilant after their third kill, the four strongest tributes don't even realize that they are walking by three unarmed tributes lying in the grass. Ayden, the boy from District Three is whistling an odd tune, and Emberlynn and Bryant are walking arm-in-arm. And they all keep walking right past Arboren, Securis, and Velour!

About five minutes after the Careers had passed through, the grass moves, and Arboren's head pops up. Then comes Securis, and then Velour.

"Aren't you glad I made you team up with Velour?" Arboren asks Securis.

"Hm."

Arboren turns to Velour. "That's his way of saying yes!" They both laugh.

But I interpret that differently. I don't think Securis originally wanted to form an alliance with Velour. Does he not trust her? I don't. There's something in her smile and laugh that doesn't seem that trustworthy.

"Velour, was that your stomach I just heard?" says Arboren.

"Yeah," Velour admits, "there was no food in my pack, only medical supplies.

Securis starts digging around in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a package of dried fruit. "I picked this up on my way from the cornucopia. I thought it would be useful, but it's just food."

"Food is _very_ useful!" compliments Velour. She takes the package, opens it, and equally divides the fruit among the three of them. They spend awhile eating, and before I know it, it's almost dinnertime. I have to get back home fast. I don't want to leave Arboren with Velour because I don't trust her. But then I realize that there would be nothing I could do anyway, because I'm just watching everything on TV. I hope Arboren makes it through the night.


	26. Flood

After about a week of disorganization, my life settles into a routine again—although it's very different than my life before. As soon as I wake up in the morning, I go into the woods and meet Ash at our designated willow tree. Then one of us hunts, and the other collects branches (or whatever other chore my parents have given me). After that's finished, we sneak into the tree behind the Peacekeepers' house to watch the Games. About an hour before dinnertime, I head back to my house and give my parents an excuse for the food I bring home. "I found it dead already," or, "Some other animal must have killed it," and others like that.

Today is day four of the Hunger Games. While it is sweltering here in District Seven (maybe 85 degrees), the tributes look comfortably cool in the arena. The camera is on the Careers, who have camped out by a small river. They are just waking up.

Then the shot zooms out onto the entire arena. I can't see the Careers anymore, and the cornucopia is just a tiny, golden sparkle in the middle of a field. The arena is _big_. I can still see the river, though. It is a thin, blue line of water encircling most of the arena. From this angle, I can also understand the exact geography of the arena. The gigantic field with the cornucopia is at the center, and the Career's/cornucopia hill is at the center of that. The meadow is circular with a diameter of about 400 meters—it's very big. Ringing the meadow are the woods. As I had noticed earlier, the woods are light and only the tall grasses offer protection (but good protection). About 100 meters into the woods, is the river. It loops around the whole arena and ends in a lake at the edge of the field. The water seems to have come from a spring on the snow-capped mountain that looms up on the right side of the field, casting a shadow over a sizable portion of the arena.

Then I notice something strange: the ribbon of blue that is the river seems to be getting wider.

"The river's flooding!" I exclaim.

"Yeah, I expected that," says Ash. "There haven't been any fighting recently, so they're using that to drive the tributes closer together."

The camera switches back to the shot of the Careers. They don't look like the powerful, composed group that they were when they were dividing out supplies, or when they were killing the District Eleven boy. Emberlynn is frantically stuffing supplies into her small backpack, Bryant is cursing while trying to tie his shoes, Glint is stupidly trying to create a barrier of earth and rocks between them and the quickly rising water, and Ayden is patting the ground trying to find his thick glasses.

Bryant finishes tying his shoes. "Here're your stupid glasses," he yells at Ayden and shoves them onto his face.

Ayden blinks. "Thank you."

The water has spilled over the top of Glint's makeshift barrier.

"Move it! Move it!" yells Emberlynn. "Back to the hill!" The reassembled Careers start sprinting away from the churning river. But they have to run through the woods, and the tall grasses make it almost impossible to run at all. Numerous times, they fall, and the sharp grasses slice the skin off of their faces leaving patchworks of little red lines. The water has caught up to them, and wherever they step, water splashes up around them completely soaking their clothes. Somehow, the Careers make it to the edge of the meadow, where the water abruptly stops.

They are out of breath and exhausted, but not tired enough to thirst for blood. Glint is the one who spots the other tribute on the far side of the field.

"You stay and guard the stuff," he tells Ayden as he and the others drop their packs. Ayden nods, and Glint, Emberlynn, and Bryant take off across the meadow to kill their prey.


	27. Injury

The girl they are stalking is from District Six, as her sleeve tells me. She can't be any older than thirteen, and is rightfully terrified when she sees the pack of Careers sprinting towards her with weapons. She lets out a scream—it doesn't matter, they've already heard her—and starts to run away. And she can _run_.

By the time the Careers have reached where she previously had stood, she is already at the base of the mountain. The terrain changes as the District Six girl starts running up the mountain. The field was covered in short grass and the occasional wildflower, but those start to disappear and are replaced by sandy soil and rocks. Every once in a while, there is a low shrub.

The incline of the ground is getting much steeper, but the girl from Six is like a mountain goat the way she can navigate on the mountain. The Careers don't have a chance in catching up to her now, so they curse at her from below, and then trudge back towards where they left Ayden.

The District Six girl now has to use her hands to help climb, but she's good at this, too. She finally stoops climbing when she reaches a ledge and swings her legs up onto it. She's sitting at the mouth of a cave, and comes face to face with another tribute.

The two of them stare wide-eyed at each other, and I can't help notice that they are strikingly similar in age and size. Both are young and are very small and thin—they are covered in blood and grime. The District Six girl has thin, light brown hair and pale, green eyes, and the other girl (District Twelve) has dark hair and gray eyes, but their stature and facial features are almost identical. Neither of them moves a muscle except to blink, and they even do that sparingly. I think that they are both afraid that the other will kill them—which is unimaginable given their size and lack of weapons!

District Six is the first one to speak. "I'm Genny. Spelled with a G, but you say it like a J."

"Tabitha," the other girl whispers back.

Genny moves closer, not so afraid anymore. "How did you get away from the Bloodbath?"

"I didn't, really," says Tabitha, sadly. She motions to her right leg, and I can see that her shin is misaligned with her thigh—her knee had been dislocated. "I tripped trying to run away, and hurt my leg. I managed to get this far though, before it gave out completely."

"I know how to fix that!" exclaims Genny. "I worked in my parents' doctors' office before…you know…I came here." She moves over to Tabitha and tries to touch her leg. Tabitha jerks it back.

"It hurts," she complains, and tears start to well up in her eyes.

"Relax," soothes Genny, "the only way to fix it is if you relax the muscles in your leg." She tries to touch Tabitha's injured leg again. Tabitha screws her eyes shut, clenches her hands and teeth, but manages to relax her leg.

Genny feels the dislocated knee. "Your kneecap is just shifted to the side, I can fix it in one second." Before Tabitha can protest, Genny quickly prods the kneecap into its original position.

"Oh!" Tabitha gasps.

Genny smiles. "It's done; that wasn't that hard!"

Tabitha starts to stand up, happy that her knee is back to normal, but Genny warns her, "Don't stand up or anything for the next couple of days. You definitely tore some tissues and ligaments, so I have to make you a cast. Wait here—"

"I'm not going anywhere!" says Tabitha, laughing.

"Oh yeah, I forgot for a sec. Anyway, I'm going to go down the mountain a little to find some good pieces of wood and some vines to make a cord." She scrambles out of the cave.

A couple minutes later, Genny returns with two flattish branches and some of the long, thinner branches of the bushes that dotted the mountainside. She fashions Tabitha a makeshift cast.

"It'll have to do," she says.

"It's very good," complements Tabitha, "Allies?"

"Allies," replies Genny.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, I have published SEVEN chapters today! I had literally nothing to do except write.<strong>


	28. Fewer Careers

Today is day five of the Hunger Games, and I still have barely gotten used to the fact that it is a contest of killing. Perhaps that is the reason why may parents have never let me watch, they don't want me to watch death and gore. But then again, last night Mother made me help her skin one of the rabbits I had brought home.

The anthem of Panem is playing when I arrive at the Peacekeepers' house. I know that there are words to it, but I can't understand what they are.

"They're in Latin," says Ash, somehow reading my thoughts. "The song goes like this:

_Nos comis caput_

_Vivemus placide tibi_

_Seiugatus stabimus_

_Conpactus sub te_

_Dare tibi panem_

_Vivemus placide tibi."_

I laugh. I still don't understand a word. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't exactly know," admits Ash, "I remember hearing it a lot when I was very young, though. Anyway, Latin's a dead language now, but I learned in ancient history class that there was once a civilization that spoke it. That was a long time ago, though."

With the last chords of the anthem, Claudius Templesmith begins to speak. "Good morning ladies and gentlemen! We welcome you back to the eleventh hour of the fourth day of the 54th Hunger Games. May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

"The eleventh hour already?" I ask Ash.

"Yeah, it's 11:00 now. The Hunger Games is a 24/7 show, and apparently some people stay awake the whole time to watch everything." That's so weird.

The camera shows a wide shot of the arena, and I see that the flood has caused a lot of damage. The water has receded back to its original boundaries, but it has also left a ring of destruction. Many of the small trees in the woods have been ripped from the ground. Also, the tall grasses are completely flattened! They are soggy, and are horizontal instead of vertical to the earth, which eliminates a hiding place. I'm not sure if that is bad or good.

I try to remember all of the tributes that are left so far: the Careers, of course, which are Emberlynn, Glint, Bryant, and Ayden—both from District One, the District Two boy, and the District Three boy. I don't remember seeing the District Three girl picture appear on the screen yet, so I assume that she's still alive, although I haven't seen her on camera either. Arboren, Securis, and Velour. And Genny and Tabitha—the girls from Six and Twelve. I think that's everyone. I count on my fingers: only ten tributes left.

A camera—hidden within the branches of a tree apparently, because of the leaves that are partially blocking the screen—focuses on the back of a tribute. She is crouching behind a stump at the edge of the woods. I recognize her by her frizzy mane of red hair—it's the girl from District Three. She's staring at something intently, and I see that she's looking at the Careers, who are sitting on their hill eating an early lunch.

The District Three girl starts sprinting towards them with a large tree branch. The Careers are very preoccupied with their food, and only notice the girl when she's 100 meters away from them. They have barely enough time to assemble their weapons before she is on top of them. The District Three girl attacks with her improvised weapon of a heavy tree branch and swings it around, trying to hit one of the Careers. She's very skilled with it, but the Careers have also had training.

Emberlynn's preferred weapon of a javelin won't work at such short distances, but she arms herself with two long hunting knives. Bryant has his sword, and Glint has an array of short knives. Ayden tries to stay away from the fight.

The girl from Three swings her club and smashes through the piles of supplies that Ayden had carefully organized. Whenever Glint holds up a knife to get ready to throw it at her or stab her, she kicks it out of his hand. Soon, he is weaponless. She holds up her club, getting ready for the kill, and Glint tries to scramble out of the way, but he's not fast enough. The District Three girl brings her club down on his head—hard.

_Boom!_

"What's that?" I ask Ash.

"That's the cannon. It goes off every time a tribute dies."

I guess I didn't hear it when the boy from District Eleven was killed because I was covering my ears to block out any sound.

The girl from Three now takes on Emberlynn, and Emberlynn is obviously not comfortable using knives. In a couple seconds, Emberlynn, too, is lying on the ground with a dent in her skull.

_Boom!_

I see the now dangerous girl from District Three turn to Bryant, but there is a scared look in her eyes. Then I see that Emberlynn did not go down without a fight—there is a large gash in the girl's arm. Realizing that she now has a severe disadvantage because she has only one arm to use, she sprints away from the hill.

* * *

><p><strong>If you don't know Latin, the translation of my words to the anthem goes like this:<strong>

**_Our obliging head [Capitol]_  
><strong>

**_We live peacefully for you  
><em>**

**_Divided we will stay_**

**_Unified under you  
><em>**

**_To give bread to you  
><em>**

**_We live peacefully for you.  
><em>**


	29. Full Meal

I had forgotten about the District Ten tributes. Earlier, when I had tried to remember all the living tributes, I guess they had just slipped out of my mind. Apparently, they are allies because they aren't trying to kill each other. They both have straight, dark hair and deep brown eyes.

"I don't want to put my jacket back on," complains the girl. Gesturing to a tree branch where her jacket is hanging.

"Lana," says the boy, "it's completely dry, so there's no reason not to wear it. You might need it later, plus it will be one less thing to carry in your bag.

"But it's too hot."

"That's just another reason to wear it," explains the boy patiently. "When you sweat, it will keep the water in instead of letting it evaporate, and you'll feel cooler. Trust me."

Lana grudgingly takes the jacket and slips it on her arms.

I guess that the arena is getting warmer, because yesterday, jackets were necessary for the tributes. Also, I notice that Lana and her district partner are walking through a section of forest that is very different from what I have seen in the arena so far. They are traveling through a dense forest of pine trees, and I hadn't seen any animals in the arena so far, but here there is the constant chatter of birds, and the occasional scuffle of a ground rodent of some sort.

I try to locate where exactly they are in the arena. Since they are traveling downhill, the mountain must be at their backs. Also, the sun in the arena rises opposite the mountain and sets behind it. It is about 3:00, judging by the position of the sun. But wait—the sun has usually disappeared in back of the mountain by 2:00, when the mountain starts to cast a shadow over the field. But in the picture on the TV, the sun is still visible. That must mean, that the District Ten tributes are traveling in an area behind the mountain! They are very far away from any other tributes.

Suddenly, the camera switches back to Arboren! I am relieved to see her again, and happy that she is fairly safe (if you can be safe in the Hunger Games at all). She, Securis, and Velour are camped out by the river.

"I thought you said you could hunt," says Velour angrily.

"I can," replies Arboren, hurt at Velour's nasty comment. "There just isn't anything to hunt here."

Velour rolls here eyes, but says nothing.

"Look, we got a parachute!" Securis points to the sky. A large package attached to a piece of silver cloth is falling gently down to earth. It lands a few feet from them.

"Ah," exclaims Velour, "this must be from my district!" She tears off the strings attaching the box to the parachute and throws off the lid of the box. Inside is a full dinner of salad, rolls, and sticky rice! But there are only two portions of each. Arboren notices this, and her face falls.

"I don't have to eat," says Securis as Velour unpacks the food.

"You sure?" asks Velour.

"Yeah."

Arboren takes a big bite of the rice. "Mmmm! This is so good," she exclaims.

Velour shakes some salt from a saltshaker that was included with the meal after taking a few bites of rice. "Too bland," she complains. "Securis, you really should eat!"

"I told you, I'm fine."

"But this rice is so good! I mean, you shared your dried fruit with us on the first day; it's only right for me to share with you now."

While Securis considers this, his stomach growls. "Okay," he says. "Thanks." Velour gives him the rest of her sticky rice, and Arboren shares her roll.

When they are finished eating, the sun is setting quickly.

"I'm sleepy," says Securis.

"Okay, you two can sleep while I keep watch," says Velour.

"I'm not that tired," replies Arboren.

"Yeah, but your shift was an hour longer than mine last night, so you deserve to rest. Also, tomorrow we have to find a better place for you to hunt, so you need your rest most." Arboren lies down and tries to sleep. Securis is already snoring.

Suddenly, I realize that it's getting late here in District Seven, too.

"I have to go!" I tell Ash. "My parents will be really mad!"

"See you tomorrow," he says, and I run off towards home thankful that I had seen Arboren today.


	30. Traitor

When I meet Ash at our tree this morning, I am ready to hunt or collect more willow branches (Mother is working on a baby cradle now). But Ash tells me urgently that we have to watch the Games. Suddenly, my head feels light, because I suspect that it has something to do with Arboren.

"Is she…?" I start to ask, but trail off, not wanting to complete my thought in a sentence.

"No, Arboren's fine," reassures Ash, "but you should see this."

When we get to the Peacekeepers' cabin, Claudius Templesmith is doing the updates.

"For those of you who have just joined us, here is a report on the action of the past few hours. The District Eight female had apparently received a strong sleeping solution from a sponsor, and used it to poison her 'ally.' This sleeping solution is often used for medical purposes, such as anesthesia before a surgery, but is lethal in large doses…."

I knew that Velour should have never been trusted! The sleeping solution must have been in the "salt" that she sprinkled on the rice. I know that it's not that nice to think this, but I'm glad that she poisoned Securis and not Arboren. At least Arboren will realize that Velour is a traitor after this.

The updates stop, and we are watching the Hunger Games in real time now. The cameras are on Arboren, Velour, and Securis's body. Of course, who would want to miss any of the action? Although the sun has just risen, Arboren is still asleep. But what is Velour doing? She has hooked her arms under Securis's limp ones and is dragging him somewhere. She's having a hard time, too. Securis must be very heavy because he is so muscular from working in the lumber section of District Seven, and Velour is not that big herself. Maybe she's dragging him away so when the hovercraft comes to pick him up, the Careers (well, only Bryant and Ayden now) won't immediately know where they are.

My theory makes complete sense until Velour takes out a knife and starts stabbing Securis's body. Why would she do that—he's already dead! She leaves the knife lodged in Securis's throat and runs back to Arboren and starts to shake her awake.

"Arboren, Arboren!"

"Wha…?" asks Arboren groggily.

"Something happened to Securis! I think some other tribute got to him!" Oh, so this is what Velour is aiming at! She poisoned Securis, mutilated him, and is now blaming her act on another tribute. I want to yell into the screen to Arboren not to believe Velour and break off the alliance immediately, but she can't hear me, and that would just bring out two Peacekeepers to arrest me for trespassing.

Arboren follows Velour to where Securis is lying. Her face goes white in shock.

"When did this happen?" she asks Velour.

"I think sometime during the night, I don't really know."

"Oh."

Think, Arboren, think! I want to shout at her. Put two and two together: Velour had been on watch last night; she would have _seen_ the other tribute take Securis and kill him if that was true. But it is Arboren's nature to trust everyone.

"Let's move away," Velour tells her, "the hovercraft should be here soon." Arboren nods, but she still looks a little sick from seeing Securis's dead body.

The camera suddenly switches to a shot of the smallest tributes, Genny and Tabitha. They are still sitting in their cave at the top of the mountain. Tabitha's leg is in the brace that Genny had made for her, and it looks less swollen and deformed than it did yesterday.

"We're gonna need some food really soon," says Genny.

"There's no food anywhere near here," moans Tabitha. "What are we going to do, eat the rocks?"

At this, Genny perks up. "Wait here, I know what we can eat!" Before Tabitha can say anything, Genny scrambles out of the cave. She travels across the face of the mountain, bending down every once in a while to pick up something. Minutes later, she returns to the cave with a huge grin on her face, and an armful of rocks.

"Puffball mushrooms!"

Tabitha laughs uproariously. "They really do look like rocks! How did you know about those?"

"I already noticed a couple when I was collecting branches for your cast. Don't worry, they're not poisonous to eat," Genny reassures her.

"I'll make a fire, and we can cook them." Tabitha offers to help in a task that doesn't require much standing. "None of the other tributes can even climb up to here, so it doesn't matter if they see the smoke."

"Good idea," agrees Genny, and she runs outside once again to get wood for the fire. What she doesn't notice is that about 400 meters down the side of the mountain, a tribute with wild, red hair is crouching behind a bush, watching her every move.

* * *

><p><strong>THIRTY chapters already! This story is going to be longer than I thought...<strong>


	31. Final Eight

The girl from District Three, who is watching Genny, doesn't attack yet. She probably doesn't want to risk her own life climbing on the dangerous rocks of the mountain. So Genny makes it back to the cave safely with wood.

They roast the puffball mushrooms and enjoy probably their first full meal since the Hunger Games began. Both Genny and Tabitha are wearing their jackets zippered up with the hoods pulled far over their heads, so it must be very cold. But that doesn't make sense because just yesterday, Lana was complaining about having to wear hers at all.

"Climate control," Ash whispers to me. "The Gamemakers can change the temperature in the arena however they like."

Claudius Templesmith begins to speak again. "This has certainly been an exciting Games so far. Despite a relatively slow start—only nine tributes dead in the Bloodbath, this is only the fifth day, and we are almost down to the final eight! Get ready for a special feature coming up really soon where we will interview the family and friends of the eight remaining tributes."

"Wait—so the people from the Capitol are coming here—to District Seven?" I ask Ash.

"Yeah, assuming Arboren isn't the next one killed."

I glare at him.

"Sorry!" Ash says. "Oh, and they'll probably interview you.'

"Me—why?"

"Well, you're Arboren's best friend."

"But what will I say?" Suddenly I am really worried. "They assume that everyone watches the Hunger Games, and technically I do, but my parents don't think that I do! What should I do? Do I have to pretend that I haven't watched them? But that will get me in trouble with the Capitol! But if I talk about what happened in the Games, my parents will find out!"

"Calm down," Ash tells me. "The Capitol is big on rules. It's technically not in District Seven's charter that it's mandatory to watch the Games. Apparently, Seven was always one of the mellower districts, and the Capitol didn't think that they'd be as likely to revolt again as, let's say, Twelve. So there isn't a law that directly says that we have to watch the Hunger Games, and the Capitol always goes by the law."

"Okay, so basically I have to play dumb and just talk about how me and Arboren were always best friends?"

"Yeah, basically."

I'm reassured, but still really nervous about these interviews. What if I accidentally slip and give something away about how I watch secretly watch the Games be trespassing on the Peacekeepers' property, or about how I hunt illegally in the woods? But the TV momentarily takes my mind off such matters.

"We're probably going to have to stock up on these mushrooms," says Tabitha. She and Genny are warming their hands and faces around the fire where they had cooked the mushrooms. They were right, even though the fire had produced a lot of smoke, none of the other tributes left alive had tried to attack them; the mountain was just too hard to climb. They had already eaten all the mushrooms that Genny had brought on her first trip.

"Yeah," agrees Genny, "I'll go outside in a few moments and get some more, and I'll go further down the mountain to see if there's any other things we could eat." She reties her boots, pulls her jacket over her hands to keep them warm, and stands up. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes." Genny climbs down from the ledge on which the cave mouth is located and begins to hop from rock to rock down the mountain's face. She picks up more puffball mushrooms and another type of plant that I have never seen before, but it must grow in District Six because she recognizes them fondly.

The camera focuses on her face. Under the mess of scratches, dirt, and blood accumulated over the past few days, I can tell that Genny is very young. Thirteen at most, but maybe even twelve. The bones of her face stick sharply out because she was definitely never fed enough back home. It is amazing that she survived this long in the Games. Suddenly, here clear, green eyes look up in absolute terror. Only for a second though, before she is knocked directly in the head by the girl from District Three's wooden club.

Genny slumps to the ground, making a small gasping noise. The mushrooms she is holding spill out of her limp arms. She's still breathing, but there's no hope for her survival. A few seconds later, the cannon sounds.

The District Three girl gathers the fallen mushrooms and sprints away, her red hair flying out behind her. I had thought that the Careers were the most dangerous of all the tributes, but she's actually the one to look out for.

Back in the cave Tabitha is still waiting for Genny to return, but she never will. I want to cry; Genny and Tabitha were so innocent and deserved to win, but they would have to die anyway if there's any chance for Arboren. At least she didn't have to kill them.


	32. Cassia

The interviewers and their camera and sound crew arrive from the Capitol before dinnertime tonight. As I walk in the door of my house (careful to not bring any game, and to have a full bag of willow branches, because Ash had told me that they would probably be early), I see a tall woman greeting my parents.

"Good evening Alona and Hollis Beecher. I haven't seen you two since—" My mother quickly gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and glances at me for a split second. The tall, Capitol woman stops talking.

"This is our daughter," Mother says to the woman. "Her name is Ellery, and you must be here to interview her because her best friend is in the Hunger Games."

"Ah, yes," says the Capitol woman. Compared to the other citizens of the Capitol that I had seen on TV, she is much less elaborately dressed, and doesn't seem to have had any plastic surgery or artful deformities. Her skin is a nice cinnamon color, but it's natural, not died or tanned. "I'm Cassia, and I'm just here to ask you a few questions about your friend Arboren Darrow." She pulls out two chairs from under the central table and motions for me to sit in one. I hand my sack of branches to Mother and sit.

I'm nervous, which is weird, because I never get nervous about these kinds of things like talking or being filmed. Cassia seems nice, so that's reassuring, but something's still bothering me.

"Okay," says Cassia, "let's get the interview started. Ready?" she asks the cameramen. They look so funny; they are completely covered in metal plates, joints, wires, buttons, and screens that they look like half armadillo and half grasshopper! One of them gives her a thumbs-up and them presses a green button on his forearm.

"This won't be live," Cassia whispers to me, and I nod. Thank goodness.

One of the cameramen is counting down on his fingers. He is holding up three fingers, now two, one.

"Reporting from District Seven," says Cassia to the camera, "we are interviewing today Ellery Beecher." She turns back to me. "Ellery, what is your relationship to our surviving District Seven tribute, Arboren Darrow?"

"She's my best friend. We've always been friends." I answer, glad I don't have to lie yet, because these cameras with all their equipment seem like they can tell if I'm telling the truth or not.

"Yes, I remember her volunteering for you at the reapings. How did you feel about that?"

How did I feel? I hated her for the first couple of days! And then I realized that she had volunteered to save me from certain death. But I don't say any of that. "Well, I mean, she's three years older than me, so she definitely has a better chance at winning."

"She certainly does," says Cassia, and she laughs. "Arboren is doing fantastically—she's made it to the final eight!"

Despite my fears, Cassia is really nice, and after a couple more questions—mainly about Arboren's and my past and not the actual Games—I have almost completely relaxed. I'm still relieved though, when Cassia says, "And that will be it. Thank you, Ellery!"

The cameramen start fiddling with their equipment and packing it all back up. Cassia tells me I did very well, and then she goes over to my parents and says, "Goodbye, it was nice seeing you again." She waves goodbye to me, and she and the cameramen leave.

Suddenly it is very quiet in the house.

"I'll go make dinner," says Mother in an unusually high-pitched voice.

"I have to draw water from the well," says Father, and he leaves, too.

I'm left in the dining area alone. Something Cassia had said bugs me, though. 'It was nice seeing you again.' _Again. _I have never remembered seeing Cassia in my whole life.


	33. Dehydration

The next day, the interviews air. Whoever organizes the show has cut each interview down significantly—only taking the really important questions—and mushed them altogether into a fifteen-minute segment.

I see the muscular father of Bryant, the boy from District Two, and he apparently was the victor of his Games about thirty years ago. He says, "I absolutely know that my son will follow in my footsteps."

I notice a woman with crazy, red hair, who must be related to the girl from District Three.

I spot myself, and also Lynde, who compliments Arboren on how well she's doing and says how much she hopes to see her home again soon. I couldn't agree with her more. Not that Ash isn't a good friend, but I really miss Arboren.

I see a dark-haired and dark-eyed couple, and they're probably the parents of either Lana or her partner from District Ten.

The last clip they show is of a tiny, thin girl with dark hair and gray eyes and coal dust covering every inch of her body. "Tabitha, come home! Tabitha, come home!" she cries over and over again. She's probably her younger sister or something. And she keeps repeating the same phrase again and again. It's really haunting, in a way.

"Thank you to all who have been supporting your district's tribute in the 54th Annual Hunger Games!" says Claudius Templesmith. "Now back to real time, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The camera opens onto Tabitha sitting in her cave. The fire has gone out and there's no way she is going to be able to get more wood to start another one because of the condition of her leg—it's still not close to healed. She's shivering from the cold and must not have had food for at least a day.

"Genny, Genny, Genny…" she whimpers. But Genny isn't going to come back. Tabitha must have heard the cannon, and after at most an hour she must have realized that the cannon was for her ally. But like her little sister, she is probably trying to convince herself that the unthinkable hadn't happened.

There is no way Tabitha will make it another night.

Suddenly, the cameras switch to the two District Ten tributes. They aren't in the forest behind the mountain anymore, but are in the dry woods surrounding the large field. From what I recall about this area of the arena, they should be nearing the river. But there isn't a river anymore—it's a dry riverbed! I guess the Gamemakers had drained the river overnight, probably to draw the tributes closer together while they search for water.

"I'm _so _thirsty!" grumbles Lana.

"We'll find water eventually," says her district partner.

"Can't we just go back to the pine forest where we were before? There were loads of springs there."

"_You_ can if you want to get attacked by giant furless squirrels! I'd rather not though."

They trek through the woods. All of their clothes are in rags, and their faces, arms, and legs are bloody messes of scratches. Each of the tributes wear the same thing in the arena—black pants with many pockets, a white, cotton shirt, sturdy, lace-up hiking boots, and a thick, black jacket with a hood. By now, half of these clothes are lost, burnt, or ripped completely away.

Suddenly Lana falls to her knees. "I don't feel too good," she moans.

"What's wrong?" asks the boy from Ten.

"I can't see ahead of me, and my legs won't work—" Then she throws up.

"Heat stroke combined with dehydration," her partner diagnoses.

Lana whimpers as he picks her up out of the grass and sets her in a particularly leafy tree. "I'll go get you water. Perhaps they haven't drained the lake yet."

He walks off, but doesn't notice a girl with red hair following about 100 meters behind him. Of course the girl from District Three is following him! She obviously had seen Lana in the tree, but it is likely that she will die soon from lack of water, so she started to trail the boy from Ten. If she kills him, then there is no hope for Lana.

They near the lake, and sure enough, it is still filled with sparkling blue water. The District Ten boy starts running towards it, but is stopped short by a blow to the ribs by a wooden club. The girl from Three has started her attack.

But the boy from District Ten doesn't give up easily. The hit only caused him to stagger back a bit. He draws a short sword and is ready to attack when the red-haired girl swings her club at his head. Lana's partner ducks just in time and takes a swipe at her ankle from his crouched position. She jumps, and the blade whizzes harmlessly under her boots.

They are the perfect fighting match—neither of them will give up until the other is dead, but they are balanced so evenly that it is impossible for either one of them to kill the other. The fight for what seems like hours—but is probably more like five or ten minutes. Then a small tribute comes into view.

It's Ayden—recognizable by his thick glasses. Neither of the fighters notices him; they are locked in battle. Also, he doesn't seem to have any weapons. But when he touches a small lighter with a flickering flame to the tips of the grass, a blazing ring of fire erupts around the boy from Ten and the girl from Three.

* * *

><p><strong>I realize that I have been using meters as the unit of measurement throughout the story, and it's probably confusing for some people. A meter is about a yard.<br>**

**Also, I'm using Fahrenheit, not Celsius.  
><strong>


	34. Ring of Fire

They panic. No longer concentrated on each other, the two tributes look for a way to escape the roaring flames. But they are far too high—reaching maybe three meters into the air.

The girl from District Three jumps out of the circle of fire, but her long mane of hair catches on fire. She flails around on the ground trying to put it out, but only succeeds in spreading the fire to her clothes. In a few seconds, she is totally engulfed in flames. When she stops screaming, the cannon sounds.

The boy from District Ten obviously doesn't want to suffer the same fate as his enemy, so he waits inside the ring of fire. But the circle is getting smaller, and the flames no dimmer. He is sweating from heat and fear, which just makes him loose what little water he had left inside of him. When the flaming circle is less than 50 centimeters wide, he jumps sideways out of it. The boy from Ten screams as he sees that his jacket sleeve has caught on fire.

The cameras cut back to Lana in the tree. She must have heard her district partner's scream, because she opens her eyes. "No," she whispers. The screaming continues. "No!" she yells more forcefully, realizing who is screaming. With newfound strength, Lana leaps out of the tree. And falls on her knees. "No, no, no!" she shrieks as she forces her legs to stand up and run.

Back in the field, the District Ten boy has been able to put out the fire on his sleeves. But his hands and forearms are so badly burnt that the skin has peeled away leaving raw, pink flesh. He stumbles to the small lake full of cool, fresh water, and falls face-first into it.

Lana rushes onto the charred grass of the field. The fire, having no wind to push it anywhere has died out. "NOOOOOO!" she cries as her district partner sinks under the water in the lake—unable to swim or even float from lack of strength. The cannon booms; he has drowned.

Lana falls onto her hands and knees and sobs. "NO, no, no…."

Some minutes later, she catches sight of Ayden slowly retreating—now weaponless, but still clutching the empty flask and a lighter. She looks at him, then the District Three girl's scorched body, and then at the lake. Within a second, she grabs the girl's tree-branch club (which had amazingly escaped much of the fire) and bashes in Ayden's head. The cannon booms for the third time today.

Lana stares at what she has done. I don't think that she can believe that she had killed someone. She drops the club, and runs back to the woods, not wanting to be in the presence of death any longer.

So that was why Ayden refused any weapons that the Careers had offered him. All he needed was a bottle of flammable liquid and a source of flame, and he had the most dangerous weapon the arena. The components of his death trap were so simple, that no one had suspected anything of it. And in the end, he had been the one to kill two tributes.

A hovercraft comes and picks up the dead in a pincer-like metal thing. Ash had told me that if there is a lot of action in one day, then the Gamemakers may allow the other tributes a day of (relative) peace, because the Capitol citizens will be satisfied by watching replays for a while. There are only five tributes left, and I hope that this latest fight will be enough to keep Arboren safe for a while.


	35. Mountain

Tabitha had died during the night. When I begin watching that day, I see a hovercraft come and pick up her body. She isn't injured (other than her lag, which is still in the cast), so another tribute hadn't killed her. She must have died from fatigue, hunger, dehydration, cold, or all four combined. Tabitha will be going home to her sister soon, but not alive.

When the hovercraft is gone, they switch to a scene of Arboren and Velour. I am relieved to see Arboren again, because they didn't show her at all yesterday. They are in the section of forest behind the mountain, so even if it is about 100 degrees in the arena, it is shady where they are. Arboren is fiddling with a branch and some string, and I recognize that she is trying to make a slingshot.

"Hurry up," says Velour, "I'm hungry, and we ate the last rolls yesterday."

"I'm sorry, but this string is just not elastic enough," replies Arboren, oblivious to the obvious self-centeredness of Velour's comment.

Velour sighs and slumps against a tree trunk to wait.

Arboren tries out a number of pebbles in her slingshot, and most of them just plop to the ground a couple feet away, but every once in a while, one goes whizzing into the air and scares the birds out of the trees. "This will have to do," says Arboren. "Stay here, I'll try and get a bird or something." She quietly stalks off, looking for birds that aren't obscured by the foliage of pine needles.

A few minutes later, Arboren is quite far away from Velour. Then there is a shriek.

"Arboren, Arboren!" Velour calls.

Arboren starts to shush her, but she is too far away, and all the birds have flown off anyway.

"Arboren!" screams Velour. Arboren realizes that something was very wrong, and runs back to Velour.

"What is it?" she gasps, panting, as she stops in front of Velour.

"I hear something coming from that way!" she says, and points downhill. Sure enough, there is the sound of running footsteps on the dry pine needle covered ground, and whoever it is, is getting closer.

"Up the mountain!" says Velour, and she takes off uphill. Arboren quickly follows her.

Only a few seconds after they've gone, Bryant bursts into the clearing, which they had vacated. He looks around for any sign of the two allies, and then realizes that they must have run in the opposite direction as him, so he follows them up the mountain.

Soon, the pine forest gives away to the sandy mountain landscape that I recognize from Genny and Tabitha's cave. Velour and Arboren continue running uphill, but shortly the mountain gets too steep, and it is impossible to run any longer. They have to start using their hands to pull themselves up to the next rock ledge.

At one point, Arboren looks back to see that Bryant has started climbing up behind them. He holds a heavy sword in one hand, but is strong and tall enough to keep gaining on them.

The mountain is still getting increasingly steeper—it is almost a 90-degree incline. The next rock ledge is much too high for either Arboren or Velour to reach. They nervously glance down at Bryant slowly advancing on them.

"Rope," says Arboren.

"What?"

"Rope. Do you still have that long piece of rope that you found in your backpack?" Velour starts digging around for it. "I'll help you get up to the ledge, and then I'll use the rope to climb up myself."

Velour pulls a long, thick rope out of her pack. "Got it."

Arboren kneels down, and Velour uses her knee as a step up to the ledge. She scrambles up, and starts to unwind the rope to pull Arboren up. Velour braces herself so she won't be pulled off of the cliff while Arboren holds the other end of the rope in both hands and tries to walk up the solid rock face of the mountain. Finally, she makes it, but there are still many more rock ledges to climb.

After a bit, their climbing strategy gets much easier, but Bryant is gaining on them fast. He is surprisingly good at climbing, because, no doubt, he has trained for it. He will catch up with the two girls in a very short time.

Arboren is sweating even though it is definitely 40 degrees cooler on the mountain face than in the rest of the arena. It just makes it very hard to hold onto the rope. Her hands, apart from being slippery, are rubbed raw from rope burn and have been cut by a sharp piece of rock many times.

For maybe the twentieth time, Arboren kneels down to let Velour step up on her thigh. "Quickly!" she tells Velour, because Bryant is already clambering up onto the same rock ledge that they are on, just 20 meters to the left. Velour has already made it to the next ledge, and should be about to throw the end of the rope down to Arboren. "Velour, the rope!" Arboren urgently reminds her, as Bryant catches sight of them.

Velour looks down at her, and then at Bryant, now running their way.

"The rope!"

Velour slowly shakes her head, no.

"Velour!" screams Arboren. But Velour has already turned her back to her, and Bryant is a mere three meters away.

"Help!" she screams again as Bryant runs he sword directly through her chest.


	36. Secrets

She stumbles, and falls off of the ledge, her mouth in a perfect O-shape. She finally realizes that her "friend" had been a traitor all along—but much too late. She falls through the air with a large, red stain on the front of her shirt, staring up at the sky one last time. She will inevitably die. And it's Arboren.

I jump out of the tree, blindly sprinting through the woods. I bump into trees and scratch my face on branches because I can't see where I'm going, I'm crying so much. I trip over roots and fall many times, but I don't care. Nothing I'm suffering now is as bad as what happened to Arboren, and I just want to get home.

When I make it home, I immediately rush into my parents' arms, and the story of what's happened in the past couple weeks just gushes out of me. Starting with my talk with Arboren after the reaping, I tell them about how I was curious about the Hunger Games, so I decided to watch, I tell them about meeting Ash and learning to hunt, that I had lied and it was me who had brought us the food, I tell them about learning that the Games was a game of death, about how horrible I think it is, and finally I tell them about Arboren.

"She's d—" I can't say it. "Dea—" I just can't. Death and Arboren don't seem to go together. I start sobbing uncontrollably, unable to speak anymore. Father just picks me up and lays me down in my bed.

I stop crying about half an hour later, but just because I don't have any water left in my body to make tears. In fact, I am really thirsty. I drag myself out of bed and go to the well to get a drink. When I get outside, my parents are waiting for me. I get ready for them to yell at me or something for disobeying them, lying, and hunting illegally, but they don't speak.

"You're not mad?" I tentatively ask.

They shake their heads. "No," says Mother, "it's all our fault. We were just to scared to relive it—"

"Relive what?" I ask.

"We'll get to that," Father tells me.

"Anyway," continues Mother, "We didn't want the Hunger Games to be a part of our life anymore, so we just tried to block them out by never watching. I guess that proved impossible when Arboren volunteered, because you two are inseparable friends. We should have let you make your own decision about whether to watch or not."

"Ellery," asks my Father, "do you want to know why we have never let you watch the Hunger Games?"

"Yes," I answer, definitively. I'm ready for anything they have to say.

My parents look at each other, deciding who should tell me whatever secret they have been keeping for years. It's Mother who draws a shaky breath and begins to speak. "Years ago, ten to be exact, your older brother died in the Hunger Games."

_What?_ I have a brother? This doesn't make sense—how did I never know that? I stare at Mother with a blank expression on my face.

"You see," Father continues, "when he was only thirteen, and you must have been four, he was reaped and went to the Games. We thought that there was no chance for him, but somehow he made it to the final two, when he lost to the boy from District Four."

"So why didn't you ever watch or let me watch?"

"We didn't want to bring back the memories. The easiest thing to do was to forget and pretend that nothing ever happened. But it was definitely unfair of us not to let you watch, as you were too young to remember anything anyway."

Suddenly, I am really curious about something. "What was his name?"

"Haslett," Mother answers. "His name was Haslett Beecher."

"We might still have some pictures," says Father.

Five minutes later, we are seated around the dining table looking through a small box of photos that Father had unearthed from the depths of a closet. There is a picture of a baby crawling across the grass, a picture of a two-year-old with wavy, blonde hair like mine holding a large stick, one of a seven-year-old sitting far up in a tree, and many others chronicling Haslett's life. Finally, there is one of thirteen-year-old Haslett holding up the arms of a grinning four-year-old me. This is the last picture—it must have been taken a few days before the reaping.

And my parents are wrong. I do remember. Out from the depths of my brain, come fuzzy memories of playing outside, swimming, or walking to town with my older brother.

Everything makes sense now. The way my mother reacted when I had first asked her if I could watch this year's Games, why my father had said 'not again, not again' when I was reaped, why Cassia had seemed to know my parents already—it all fits together finally.


	37. Thunderstorm

When I wake up the next morning, it's pouring. Not just ordinary, dreary, drizzling rain, but raindrops the size of my fist, 40 mile per hour wind gusts, and lightning bolts lighting up the sky every few minutes. Thankfully, the end of this storm means less heat and humidity! I was literally dy—no—it was horrible these past few weeks.

I do have to stay indoors though; it's too dangerous to go into the woods in a thunderstorm. I see my father dragging something into the room. It's our old TV! I haven't seen that thing since I was really little—I guess my parents packed it away after Haslett's Hunger Games.

"I thought we should watch the rest of the Games," Father says, which surprises me.

"But didn't you want to just forget?" I ask.

"Well, after yesterday, I don't think we're doing such a good job of forgetting." That makes sense.

Mother comes in also and sits at the table with us. She presses a button on the TV and the screen flickers to life. The picture quality is horrible compared to the Peacekeepers' TV, but it still works after ten years.

They're showing a replay of Arboren's death, and I have to turn my eyes away. After the cannon booms, I can look at the TV again. Velour is still climbing away from Bryant, but as she nears the top of the mountain, the rocks begin to be covered in ice. No more than two minutes after she had caused the death of her "ally," she slips and falls down the mountainside.

"Now this is when the real action begins," says Claudius Templesmith. "Two tributes left, and only one will come out!"

It is starting to rain in the arena, too. Lana is curled up in a tree at the edge of the woods with her eyes closed. But when the droops become large and frequent enough, she wakes up.

"Splugh," she gurgles, shaking the water off of her face. And then she realizes that it's _water! _She probably hasn't seen water in four or five days. Lana opens her mouth to catch the raindrops on her tongue. But she needs more water than that, so she cups her hands tightly together to make a cup to catch the water. After about twenty handfuls of water, Lana is much more hydrated. She hops out of her tree and walks through the rain—she must be so relieved.

I hear the rushing of a lot of water, and see that to the right of where Lana is walking, the river is back. I guess the Gamemakers refilled it overnight.

Suddenly, the voice of Claudius Templesmith booms from the TV, but this isn't the normal chatter that he says while announcing. His voice is being projected into the arena. Lana jerks her head up and looks around.

"Good afternoon, surviving tributes!" he says. "Just so all of you know, there are only two of you left. The last one left standing will win the Hunger Games. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Lana's mouth drops open in surprise. I don't think she ever expected to be one of the final two, and she'd been unconscious in that tree for so long that she had missed three deaths. Lana knows enough about the Games to know that if she tries to evade the last battle, the Gamemakers will plan something horrible to drive the two tributes together, so she starts trudging to the cornucopia just to get it over with.

As she comes from the woods, she grips the hilt of a long knife slipped into her belt. Bryant is already standing on top of the hill that the Careers had vacated after Emberlynn and Glint were killed. The supplies that Ayden had carefully organized are strewn about and most of the food is sodden from the rain. It is still raining a bit, but not nearly as hard as a couple minutes ago.

Bryant is holding a long sword. "Ready to die?" he asks with a grin.

Lana takes a deep breath, draws her knife, and charges.


	38. The Victor

Lana sprints up the hill and aims to stab Bryant's chest. He easily blocks her attack.

"Nice try," he says mockingly and then slashes at her, but she jumps back in time. Lana's moment of confidence has ended. He lunges at her again, and she stumbles back and trips on an overturned crate of oranges from the Careers' supplies. Lana falls on her back and slides down the wet grass of the side of the hill.

Bryant takes this opportunity, and he rushes towards her fallen body. He swipes downward with his sword aiming to decapitate Lana, but at the last moment, she holds her blade out with both hands. _Clang! _The two weapons meet; Lana hasn't given up yet. She holds the handle of her knife in one hand, and the end of the blade in the other. It is cutting deep into her left hand, but if she lets go, Bryant will kill her. She pushes back with all her might against Bryant's sword, but he's pushing downwards, too. With one great heave, she shoves Bryant backwards just long enough for her to roll to the side. Bryant's sword lodges itself in the ground.

Lana scrambles up, wiping her bleeding hand on her white shirt, staining it a brilliant red. She runs back to the supplies and hides behind a stack of crates and racks of weapons.

Bryant, angry and embarrassed that she had gotten away again, shouts at her, "Don't be a coward, fight!"

Just then, a bolt of lightning hits the tail of the cornucopia. The electricity travels through the metal causing it to light up briefly. There is a huge clap of thunder, and the rain starts to come down even heavier than it had been. Bryant starts slashing at the pile of supplies trying to get to Lana, who is hiding behind it.

Lana pushes the pile of crates, and they start to fall Bryant's way. He dodges the crates as one bursts open, and about twenty apples bounce to the ground. Lana scuttles behind another pile of supplies, and Bryant follows her. "You can't hide forever!" he jeers. "Someday you're going to have to die."

Another lightning bolt his the cornucopia, and it sizzles with energy. The grass around it is charred now.

This pile falls, and Lana tries to run away, but Bryant is quick, and he lunges at her with his sword. The blade catches her on the arm, and almost slices all the way through her elbow. Lana screams as she sees her left forearm hanging uselessly at her side. Bryant's sword had cut through her skin, flesh, and most of the bone of her elbow.

She dashes away from him towards the cornucopia. The golden metal is slippery from the rain that is still relentlessly pouring down. At least the strands of metal are woven together, which provides good hand and foot holds. Lana starts climbing up the side of the cornucopia using her only good hand and feet. She has nowhere to hold her knife, so she clenches it between her teeth.

Bryant is climbing after her, and it's much easier for him. Even though Lana has a head start, they reach the top at the same time. Bryant swings his sword at her, but she blocks it. He tries again, but she stops him for a second time. Lana is slowly moving uphill, because she is being pushed backwards by Bryant who keeps attacking. She is nearing the edge of the mouth of the cornucopia, and will fall off if Bryant keeps pushing her back.

Bryant realizes this too, and advances even further. He's grinning and laughing, as he knows that he will win in a few seconds. He lunges one final time, and Lana steps backwards, slips on the wet metal, and falls off of the cornucopia. I hear a sickening crack, so she must have broken a large bone.

Bryant looks over the edge of the cornucopia to see her broken body. Lana is still breathing, but how long can she last with a broken bone and a heavily bleeding arm? Maybe an hour at most.

Then there is a crackle, and a third lightning bolt hits the tail of the cornucopia. The electricity travels fast through the metal, and hits Bryant with full force. His smile is frozen on his face as he slumps down and slides off the cornucopia. A cannon booms—for Bryant.

"Ladies and gentlemen," shouts Claudius Templesmith, "I give you the victor of the 54th Annual Hunger Games: Lana Rutherton!"


	39. Peacekeeper

Mother switches off the TV. "They won't show anything other than replays until final ceremonies, when the Victor gets crowned," she says.

I definitely don't want to watch replays.

There isn't anything to do since it's raining outside, so I just stay inside and help Mother weave. Tomorrow is Collection Day, and although my family has already passed the production quota of a three-person family, it doesn't hurt to do extra.

When I wake up the next morning, it is bright and sunny out. And blessedly cool! It is maybe 60 degrees out—at most. It is a huge relief after two weeks of humid, hot air. Today is Collection Day, but my parents aren't forcing me to go. Ash had told me that when a tribute dies in the Games, their boy is shipped back to their own district on the first train from the Capitol. The train that comes today will hold both Securis's and Arborn's bodies. I don't know if I will be able to make it to the Square without having a breakdown of some sort.

I realize that I must have left my bag of willow branches in the woods the day that I ran home after Arboren was killed. While my parents are gone, I will go into the woods to find it.

Father packs the wagon with all the goods we have made in the past season. Wicker furniture is piled high into the wagon cart. Stacks of wooden shingles are arranged in between them. Sanded, wooden tabletops lean against the edges. I usually love Collection Day, because I get to see my friends, but not in the setting of school. But mainly I had liked going because I catch glimpses of Capitol citizens organizing the transfer of goods, or sitting inside the passenger cars of the train. Now, I absolutely can't go.

I wave goodbye to Mother and Father as they drive away in the wagon pulled by our ancient old horse.

I run into Ash at our normal tree.

"So did you see the rest of it?" he asks.

I nod. "The girl from District Ten—Lana—won."

"Yeah, I watched too." He pauses, then says, "I'm sorry about Arboren."

"Please don't talk about that," I say, and hang my head not to let my tears show. There is an awkward silence, and then I say, "I found out why my parents never let me watch the Hunger Games!"

"Why?" Ash asks eagerly.

"Apparently, I had an older brother who had died in the Games, and my parents didn't want to watch it anymore, and they didn't want me to be exposed to all the violence."

"Wow, and they never told you anything?"

"Nope! Oh, and I think I left my willow sack around here the day…I left early," I say, trying to find the right words. "Did you happen to know where it is?'

"No…" says Ash, confused, "I thought you took it."

"It's got to be around here somewhere, though," I say. We look around the trees in this area to try to see where I had left it, but we can't find it anywhere. Then I have a great idea. "Let's ask the Peacekeepers!"

Ash looks wary. "I don't think that's such a good idea…."

"Why? They didn't even see us trespassing when we watched their TV, plus, I've talked to them a couple of times before, and they're nice."

"You really shouldn't have anything to do with the Peacekeepers."

"Why are _you _so against the Peacekeepers?"

"It doesn't matter."

"But I want to know," I whine.

"And why would I tell you?" Ash counters.

"Well, you're my friend, and I have basically told you every single detail about _my_ life, so why can't you share this 'deep secret' with me?" It is really weird, though. I know absolutely nothing about Ash. The only time I see him is in the woods, and maybe once in a while at school. I don't know anything about his family or his past.

Ash sighs. "Because one of the Peacekeepers is my father."


	40. Resemblance

I stare at him in disbelief, and my mouth drops open. I snap it shut. "How is that possible? Peacekeepers can't marry."

"Yeah, that's the whole point. My mother fell in love with a Peacekeeper, and apparently, he loved her back (this part I always doubt). They kept their romance a secret, of course, or they would both be killed. But when she got pregnant, he left her. If she had the baby and continued to be with him, then people would start to suspect. He expected her to die, because she had no family to help her—he was all she had left. But she didn't, and she had her baby—me."

"But couldn't she just tell someone that a Peacekeeper got her pregnant?"

"And who would believe an almost homeless, pregnant, 17-year-old girl from District Seven over a privileged, Peacekeeper from the Capitol?"

I nod and stay silent.

Ash continues. "And the part that I can't stand is the fact that she _still_ believes that he loves her. My mother just lies in her bed all day complaining of headaches, and many times I hear her moaning out loud stuff like, 'I know you want to see me again, Patricius. I'll tell you what: let's meet in the abandoned train station tonight at midnight!' Patricius is his name. And I try to tell her that he will never come back, that he never loved her. Because if he really loved her, he wouldn't have done what he did, but she won't listen to me."

I don't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I choke out, but immediately it sounds too shallow, and I regret saying it.

"That's okay," Ash says, and then laughs. "We have equally messed up families now!"

I laugh along with him. "That's pretty true. But I still do have to ask the Peacekeepers if they have my bag. Mother will be really mad if I come home without it."

"Okay," agrees Ash, "but I'm not coming."

I walk to the Peacekeepers' cabin, and knock on the door. Unlike the government-regulated designated cabins that every other family is assigned, the Peacekeepers' house is much better built, and it is much larger. The door swings open, and a Peacekeeper stands in the doorway. He is wearing the official outfit of a Peacekeeper—a white jacket and white pants with gray seams.

"Yes?" he asks me. "What do you want?"

"I left a bag full of willow branches around here two days ago, and I was wondering if you had seen it."

A look of recognition passes over his face. "Pat," he calls over his shoulder, "it's the owner of the willow sack you found yesterday!"

The other Peacekeeper, Pat, comes into the entry room holding my willow bag. Pat…Pat…Patricius! This must be Ash's father. I can see the resemblance as he comes closer to hand me my bag. Although Ash looks like a normal District Seven citizen because of his brown hair and brown eyes, he and his father have very similar facial features, and definitely look very similar.

I take my bag. "Thanks!" I say, and walk away from the house. After that, Ash and I just walk around in the woods because we really have nothing to do today because neither of us is going to the Square for Collection. Me because I don't want to, and Ash because his mother doesn't have a job. I stumble upon a large blueberry patch in a section of the woods I had never traveled in before, and I pick a lot of berries. We also find a small stream that might be good for fishing.

Soon it is getting late, and I walk back home. I give the blueberries to my parents, who are delighted, and Mother promises to make blueberry jam.

"How was Collection?" I ask my parents.

"It went well," answers Father. "The officials were _very _impressed with the quality of your mother's rocking chairs."

Mother blushes. Then she says, "Ellery, you really should have come this year. Arboren's family could have really used your support."

Right. They would be there to pick up Arboren's coffin. I had successfully not thought about Arboren for half a day already, why did she have to bring that up? "That's the reason I didn't go, Mother."

"Liv was asking for you, though."

Liv, Arboren's younger sister was _always_ asking for me—she adored me. "I just…can't face them anymore," I answer.


	41. Forgetting

**Sorry that it's been so long since I've updated compared to other chapters. I kind of had writer's block!**

* * *

><p>About a week goes by, and today is the night of the final ceremonies. We are just about to turn on the television to watch, when a loud pop comes from the end of the TV's cord, and a spark leaps up from the outlet. Father presses the power button, but nothing happens. He unplugs it and replugs it, tries again, but still nothing happens.<p>

"Broken," he says, "I knew it would happen sooner or later."

"What are we going to do?" I ask. I do want to watch Lana get crowned as Victor.

"We'll have to go to someone else's house to watch."

"Let's go to Arboren's," suggests Mother.

"It's alright," I say, "I don't have to watch."

Mother takes my shoulders and turns me to face her. "Ellery, this is exactly what happened with us because of Haslett."

"What?" I'm confused.

"This forgetting business. You're trying to push Arboren out of your memory to try to make it all less painful for you. But in the long run, it's better just to keep the memories. As of now, when you finally become strong enough to handle the events that have happened, it will be too late, just like it was with your father and I."

I take in her long speech. But all I can see in my head is the look of horror on Arboren's face as she realizes that Velour was a traitor as she falls from the cliff. "I just don't know…."

"Well, at least that's progress from before!" says Mother. "Let's go over to Arboren's house now." She and Father walk out of the door, and I trudge slowly behind them.

When we knock on the door, and a very tired, skinny Lynde answers it. No wonder she looks so underfed—I haven't brought her anything that I've shot in over a week.

"Hello, Alona and Hollis," she says, "and Ellery, I haven't seen you for a while." Father explains the situation that we're in with the broken TV, and Lynde laughs. "You don't need something like that as an excuse to come over! You're welcome anytime."

Just that second, little Liv, Arboren's seven-year-old sister, comes running out from behind her mother. She sprints over to me and wraps her arms around my waist in a hug. "Ellery! I missed you."

"I missed you, too," I reply, but I can't help thinking that she looks exactly like Arboren. Liv has the same long, dark brown hair, and wide-set brown eyes. She even has the same olive skin, and she's very tall for a seven-year-old. I try not to look at her because of this.

Liv takes me by the hand and leads me inside to the couch at which the rest of the family was sitting starting to watch the final ceremonies on TV. I avert my eyes from anything that remotely reminds me of Arboren. I can't stand to look at the crocheted tablecloth that I know she had woven, I try not to acknowledge the fact that there is an empty stool in the corner of the room that was no doubt hers to sit in for meals, I look away from the clothing line from which dried flowers hung knowing that I had picked them with her only a week before the reaping, and of course, the now empty, wooden box in the corner that I know had housed her body. The tears that are starting to blur my vision just help make all this easier to ignore.

I sit down on the couch and just turn my attention to the final ceremonies. Caesar Flickerman is congratulating Lana on her victory in the Hunger Games. She just looks stunned, but she answers his questions well enough. They do a three-hour replay of the Games on the screen behind Lana. I don't see how they can fit three weeks of action (including the chariot parade, interviews, and the actual Games) into three hours, but somehow they include almost everything important.

My eyes are shut tight for most of it. Only when I am sure that it's safe—that I will not catch a glimpse of Arboren—do I open them. I see the Career pack dividing up the supplies at the cornucopia. I catch a glimpse of Lana and her district partner fighting off a giant squirrel with no fur in the forest behind the mountain (I don't remember this, so I guess that I had missed it earlier). I get to see Genny and Tabitha in their cave again, but I close my eyes when Genny goes on her fatal journey for more mushrooms. Then I see the fight between the girl from District Three, and the District Ten boy—Lana's ally. I see the fire consume the girl from Three. But before I can turn away so I won't see the death of the boy from Ten again, the camera cuts to a shot of Lana's face. Not her in the arena, but her on the stage in the Capitol. Tears are streaming down her face as she watches her ally die for the second time. But she's smiling. That's weird—crying and smiling don't go together.

With her eyes fixed on her dying district partner's face—about to go under the surface of the lake for the last time, she says, "Thank you. I will always remember you."


	42. Remembering

Maybe it's just a District Ten thing, but I can't seem to get Lana's words out of my head. 'Thank you. I will always remember you.' How can she stand to have memories of him being surrounded by flames, being burnt, and then drowning in the lake? And how is she not extremely guilty that he died trying to get water for _her_?

Then I realize that Lana's situation is extremely similar to mine. Her friend had died in the Hunger Games—sacrificing his life to help her. Arboren had volunteered to save my life, but ended up dying instead of me. But Lana had looked so happy when she was watching the replay. Were all those horrible memories making her happier? Are she and my parents right—should I fill my mind with memories of Arboren?

Lana gets crowned, and the final ceremonies are over. The quiet, nine-year-old Lieu, another of Arboren's three sisters, comes over to me and taps my shoulder. "I was just starting to make a scrapbook of Arboren," she whispers. "Do you want to help?"

I think over my answer quite a bit, but finally make a choice, "Yes, I'll help."

At first, I think that my choice is a mistake. Lieu's scrapbook is made up of odds and ends that all somehow relate to Arboren's life. There are also many photographs of her. I start sobbing uncontrollably at the sight of the first picture—Arboren holding a big willow bough over her head and grinning.

"Tears will stain the paper," scolds Lieu, although gently, as she deftly pastes that picture to the page. Then she asks, "which flower do you think goes better with this photo?"

I sniffle and look up. Lieu is holding two of Arboren's fried flowers in her palm. One of them is the small yellow flower of the strawberry plant, and the other is a tall, purple grass-flower, attached to a long blade of grass. The tall grass reminds me of the arena. "The yellow one, definitely," I say. But as she's about to tape it in, I change my mind. "No, wait, I mean the purple one."

As the hours go by, working on the scrapbook with Lieu becomes easier. Eventually, the other family members join us until everyone—including my parents—is crowded around the dining table. I am able to look at the pictures now, and I don't immediately see Arboren's last expression of terror, but her as she was at all the other points in her life. There is a picture of us dancing in a freak thunderstorm when we were in grade school.

I am suddenly wrapped in guilt again. "Arboren thinks I hate her!" I exclaim. "My last words to her were literally, 'I hate you,' and she died without knowing anything else."

But immediately, Lynde comforts me. "Ellery, you have nothing to worry about! Arboren never really believed you when you said that, and I doubt you even believed yourself."

That is true—there were times when I had to convince myself that I hated Arboren—it had been so unnatural to hate someone who was basically a part of myself.

We stay at Arboren's home almost until midnight working on Lieu's scrapbook. At one point, Father unties his shoelace, takes it off of his shoe, and says, "Use this. Arboren went to town a couple days before the reaping to buy me this shoelace. I don't know how she knew that I needed a new one, but as soon as I took another step—my old one completely gave out! I didn't even know that it was breaking!" Everyone laughs joyously at this, even me. Of course Arboren would notice that, and of course she would be generous enough to buy a new shoelace.

Throughout the night, we produce objects like this to paste in the scrapbook, but most of the time we just tell stories about Arboren. The weird thing is, it _does _make me feel better. As my parents and I say goodbye, Lynde remarks, "_There's_ the happy little Ellery I know!"

* * *

><p><strong>That's the last chapter! Don't worry, since it doesn't really seem like an ending, I'm adding an epilogue. <strong>


	43. Epilogue

It still surprises me to see how much my life has changed.

For the first fourteen years of my life, I had been the shallow, afraid, uptight girl who relied on others—including her best friend. I thought that everything in life was spoon-fed to me exactly how I wanted it. I was an only child who had the full attention of my parents, and I had a best friend.

Now, I have lost my best friend to the evil of the government, I have learned that I had an older brother who succumbed to the same fate as my best friend, I hunt for my own food now if my—or Arboren's—family is in need, and I am not that "Capitol girl" that Ash had accused me of being.

Speaking of Ash, we are friends, but he will never, ever replace Arboren. Many days, after school and on weekends, I meet Ash in the woods, and we hunt. A lot of the time we just wander around enjoying the outside. I never think of leaving District Seven to go to the Capitol anymore.

Ash takes me to visit his mother sometimes. He lives with her in a tiny shack in a remote section of the woods. I don't really like being around her that much, because she just lies in her bed and moans. She is no doubt refilling her mind with the pain of her past. Although much of what I could be remembering about Arboren is painful of course, I only choose to remember the part of our lives before the Hunger Games. The Arboren I remember is the happy, faithful, loyal friend of my youth. I could be curled up in bed like Ash's mother, trying not to remember anything good, but I'm not. My and Arboren's family have made sure of that. It could have been me.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

**Yay! My first story ever is finished! I had been thinking about the plot for this one for about a year by now, I started actually writing it about eight months ago, and I have finally finished it. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and supported my story. **

**Right now I am suffering from writers block, but I hope to start another story soon.**


	44. Author's Note

**Thank you to everyone who has read my story! I'm very grateful for all the support and reviews. If you liked this story, please check out my other stories, ****The ****Weapon ****Against ****Us**** and ****The ****Forgotten****, which I'm in the process of writing right now.**


End file.
